


Like the Dawn

by Foxcote



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura appears in mentions only, Canon Compliant, Daibazaal is my city now, Dealing With Trauma, Emotional Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post S8, Post-Canon, cult magic but like in a fun way, lots of world building, not beta read god forgive me, slowburn, weird stuff happens in space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxcote/pseuds/Foxcote
Summary: After a year of distance and reflection, Lance takes the first steps towards healing.It's a slow process, but Keith has learnt that love is patient.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Lance didn’t call them Altean marks.

 

 

He did for a while. A good few months. They perched on his features like medals of honour, won through grief and warm with love. Allura had done something to him that he didn’t quite comprehend. Imparted upon him a piece of herself, _only_ to him.

 

  
  
A reminder. A blessing. A gift? He wasn’t quite sure. He never really did understand Altean magic.

 

 

But he’d welcomed the feature because he’d been lost and raw and _hurt_ and as much as he didn’t understand it, it just made so much sense to him.

 

 

It was anaesthetic, and he was damn well going to take it. A gift horse he wasn't about to look in the mouth.

 

 

But after a while, they began to feel like something else.

 

 

The token of Allura’s life force was etched onto his skin, but it never felt like it belonged to him.He felt for the real Alteans. Most of all Coran, Allura’s surrogate father,who now had to see her essence tied to an alien boy who really had nothing to do with, nor show for it.

 

 

(He thought a part of Coran might hate him. A part of him thought he’d be right to.)

 

 

He was human. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

 

And now he wasn’t sure what he was.

 

 

So if somebody asked, he simply called them ‘marks’.  


 

But nobody asked anymore. Everyone knew of the martyr princess and the poor young paladin who’s heart was scattered across the cosmos in the wake of her departure. He was the kind of thing people wrote sad songs about. Made book deals over.

 

 

All the paladins had a legacy. His was the ill-fated lover, who retired to a simple life after losing his first love to a tragedy written in the stars.

 

 

The marks didn’t warm him anymore.

 

 

 

 

He didn’t know what did.  


 

 

* * *

 

Lance watched as his niece wrestled with the stem of the young citrus shrub. The plastic pot it was in was nearly the width of her torso and the dry dirt spilt carelessly across her sundress.

 

 

“Geez, Nadia. What did that plant ever do to you?” He set down the bag of poultry feed he was carrying against a wooden fence post and came to her assistance “I’m sure there’s a peaceful solution to this.”

 

 

“Stupid thing’s been in the pot too long” she grunted.

 

 

That much was clear.The plastic was bloated and he could see small white root tips creeping out the drainage holes. A specimen left to grow unchecked through the winter at the back of their shade house, likely. “All right, this calls for a pro. Scoot over.”

 

 

He whisked the offender into his grasp “when you’re re-potting, the first thing you do is…”  


 

  
“Make sure the next pot is ready” she parroted, gesturing to a larger vessel to her left “I know. It is”

 

 

“Very good. Now the secret to dealing with problem cases like this is to be gentle,” Lancepressed against the sides of the plastic; loosening the compacted soil within the way he’d done so many times before “if you just tear it out, you’ll damage the new growth and hurt the poor thing.” He handed it back to Nadia“Give it another try, carefully this time.”

 

 

The plant slipped out of the pot with ease; revealing a cylinder of dirt marbled with a network of desperate roots. Lance gave her a smug look and Nadia stuck out her tongue in response. She hauled the mass into the larger pot and began filling in the soil around it. Lance inspected one of the trembling leaves.  


 

  
“Is this an orange tree?”

 

  
  
“Blood orange, Dad says. It’s kind of small though. Wasn’t much bigger than this when we bought it from the import market.” She eyed the shrub like had just showed her a failed maths test “it was really expensive. This variety was nearly wiped out.”

 

 

“That’s why Dad asked you to re-pot it,”he let go of the quivering plant; now surrounded by enough soil to stand in the centre of the vessel on its own “It needs more space, that’s all. Give it a couple years and it’ll be laden with fruit. We could be the first local farm to provide blood oranges since the war!”

 

 

She gave him a sceptical look as she patted the soil at the base of the flimsy plant.

  
  
  
“ Look, it couldn’t really flourish when it was stuck in that,” he gestured to the misshapen husk of the old pot beside him “you can’t expect something to grow if you don’t give it the chance to.”

 

 

“I guess,” she conceded “have you ever had blood oranges before?”

 

 

“Uh huh. It’s real blood, you know. they were the result of a top secret military experiment to create plant-human hybrid super soldiers. It failed, but the fruit is tasty.”  


 

  
Nadia giggled “ _Lance!_ I’m not five anymore. I know you’re lying.”

 

 

“You’re right. That joke would never work on the advanced intellect of an eight year-old. I’ll have to up my game” He ruffled his niece’s hair and hauled the potted plant into his grasp “Ok, let’s take this around back with the others.”

 

 

They walked in silence together for a few moments.

 

 

“Lance?”

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“Mama says you’re going out into space in a few days.”

 

 

Lance kept his eyes ahead of himself “yeah, I am.”

 

 

“why?”

 

 

“just to meet up with some people.”

 

 

A short pause. “why?”

 

 

Lance forced a dismissive chuckle “You know. Just hanging out. Do I need a reason?”

 

 

A longer pause.

 

 

“You haven’t been in space for a long time.”

 

 

A year exactly, in ‘a few days’. A year on Earth. A year after Voltron. A year after Allura.

 

 

“ I won’t be gone long, Nadia. Don’t worry. A couple days and I’m coming straight back.”

 

 

She tilted her head “don’t you want to go?”

 

 

Lance deposited the pot alongside some other specimens, making a moment to construct a careless smile on his face before turning to face her. “Of course I want to go. Theres just a lot to do here. I’m not gonna ditch you guys for too long.”

 

 

Nadia smiled, satisfied “Bring me back something cool!”

 

 

“will do. The Altean’s always have neat trinkets lying about. I’ll get you something special.”

 

 

He hid the flinch the Alien name caused him with a grin. 

 

 

It was sharp and foreign with disuse.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The reunion dinner had been Hunk’s idea.

  
  
  
He proposed it after they arrived back on earth, but before Coran and Romelle left to colonise the restored Altea. They had all marked their calendars, still listless with grief, but determined to honour the date.

 

 

It had gone seamlessly. They all fell back into each other’s company with ease. He may have been the only paladin not to have left Earth over the year, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t talked to them over that time. They all had homes on their native planet. Called in on each other every so often.

 

 

Though he would admit as the months went on they became more restricted to video calls. At least for him. Seeing them all in the flesh, illuminated by the warm lights that surrounded their table, was surreal in the best kind of way.

 

 

This interaction he could find comfort in. Hours previously they had attended an elegant remembrance ceremony concocted by Coran in the vein of the old Altean customs. There was a lot of bowing and flowing robes and sentiments spoken in a tongue he didn’t understand. Speech after speech about Voltron and Allura’s sacrifice washed over him, coming from the mouths of strangers who had marks like his own but wore them with a careless ease he had never known.

 

 

-Real Alteans. Not whatever he was supposed to be. The citizens that Allura had wished to see flourish more than anything else. _her_ people.

 

 

And it had occurred to him, while he meandered aimlessly through the extraordinary ballroom of the main castle, that before now he had never even visited the planet she brought back into existence to see if her dream had come true.

 

 

He enjoyed Coran and Romelle’s company, bright with pride in and love of all that they had achieved, but escaping quietly into the company of his fellow paladins had been a welcome relief. Earth was their common ground, and they knew his case well enough to know what subjects not to broach.

 

 

Even Keith was mindfully considerate of him. And not in a ‘cooly concealed irritation’ kind of way, either. there was a lightness to him that he either hadn’t been there last time he saw him through a Garrison video feed or hadn’t been detectable through the screen alone.

 

 

If that wasn’t odd enough, the first direct conversational address he made to him that evening couldn’t have been more obviously a peace offering.  


 

 

“ I didn’t get the chance to say it before Lance, but thanks for the support you and your family gave with those ration packs a couple of weeks ago. Those refugees had been living off of starch meal and water for months. You should have seen the looks on their faces when they got to eat homemade lasagne and fresh fruit.”

 

 

Lance’s fork paused halfway up to his mouth. He remembered packing those boxes with Veronica. His mum and dad had worked tirelessly to prepare the food for the approximately eighty-five hungry mouths the Blades had unexpectedly taken in after an outpost mission.

 

 

“Yeah, no problem. We had a huge glut of tomatoes this year, so we thought we’d put them to good use, you know? Mum makes a kickass lasagne.” He glanced casually back at Keith “so you were heading that mission?”

 

 

“No, but it was close to Earth and I was there at the time so I volunteered for it. I asked the Garrison for rations and I guess Veronica volunteered her family.

 

 

“Spot on.”

 

 

“Bet your mother was real happy about that.” Pidge needled from across the table.

 

 

“My mother is an angel and you couldn’t have stopped her helping if you tried.”

 

 

Keith smiled at him then, soft under the lantern’s glow. “Must be a McLain thing.”

 

 

Lance paused, wondering where in the fresh hell that had come from. He could feel Hunk’s eyes on him. Shiro was keeping his attention innocently on his plate. Pidge was out of his line of sight but he could bet she was suppressing some kind of glee at his alarm. He reigned his wits back in.

 

 

“Well, that’s awfully kind of you, mullet. For what it’s worth, You Koganes aren’t too bad either” He swirled the liquid in what he hoped was a casual motion.

 

 

“We try,” Keith said easily, prodding at an alien vegetable before him. The small smile that refused to leave his face was equal parts sweet and tormenting.

 

 

Mercifully, Shiro started up a conversation around the Garrison and its efforts after that. Lance mostly listened, just enjoying the combined company of his fellow paladins through the evening. Sunsets were slower on Altea. It was as though the planet itself was reluctant to draw their reunion to a close.

 

 

Time and space were far more malleable concepts to him now. A matter of perspective rather than physical constants. The Galra empire ruled for ten thousand years. Team Voltron had saved the universe in three. Galran backpackers worked shifts as fruit pickers in his orchard that had, years before, been scorched black by empire cruisers. He’d made it from his family farm to the revived Altea in a couple of hours.

 

 

And he’d never felt the ache of distance more profoundly than when he was sitting amongst his closes friends. The time spent physically apart, the time he’d _chosen_ to spend apart, was a constant subtext, apparent only to him.

 

 

Yeah. The universe was strange like that.

 

 

But when Hunk politely pointed out halfway through their meal that what Keith had been drinking was in fact salad dressing and not wine, causing Shiro and Pidge burst into ruthless laughter, Lance felt a little more at home within it.

 

 

Just a little.

 

  


* * *

 

He was restless that night.

 

 

He wanted to blame it on the too-soft mattresses of the Altean beds, or the too-rich food sitting heavily in his stomach, but he’d told too many of these little lies over the past year to convince himself. The glint of moonlight hitting the photo frame on his dresser caught his eye as he dragged himself out of the bed. His own face stared at him like a stranger; smiling, unadorned, vibrant.  


 

  
Human.

 

 

Allura smiled serenely at his side. The smile that graced every statue, portrait and piece of memorabilia of the princess martyr that floated about the post-war universe. The face of a legend.

 

 

He’d brought it with him to honour Allura, to bring her back to her home planet with him, but maybe that was another lie. Honouring her would have meant visiting earlier. Helping in the reconstruction. Doing _anything_ for Altea.

 

 

But instead, he’d just grow lookalike Juniberries on Earth, and coveted their date photo.

 

 

_what would she think of you now, Lance?_

 

 

The bedroom door breezed open as he left, twisting through the corridors and out into the castle courtyard.

 

 

The night was chilling but more bearable than the floral scented stifle of the guest room. It was clean and brisk. Not a hint of Juniberry on the breeze. They were out of season on Altea. The ones on Earth were engineered to bloom year-round.

 

 

He was drawn to the bubble of the water fountain centrepiece of the courtyard. A stone figure stood valiantly at its the centre, surrounded by some swan-like birds petrified mid-flight. He was a saint, Lance thought. Maybe a God. He couldn’t recall exactly what Coran had been saying when he’d been giving them a tour earlier. Only that when Pidge flipped a coin into the water for good luck she apparently committed some scandalous tress-pass that made the surrounding Alteans gasp.

 

 

Sure enough, the coin had been fished out. All he saw now in the dark water was his own rippling reflection on a backdrop of foreign stars. The blue specks on his cheek could have been dismissed flickers of moonlight on the agitated surface. He pressed his hands against to cool stone of the rim and leant his wight on it, taking in a deep breath through his nose.

 

 

-And smelling incense. Or what he assumed was incense. It was a rich, heady scent. Not the minty tang of the ceremonial Altean incense he’d smelt during the earlier gatherings.

 

 

Lance skirted around the rim of the large fountain, peeking behind the statue.

 

 

“Keith?”

 

 

“Hey Lance. You hate those beds too?”

 

 

The older man was still in his clothes from dinner, hair loose and sitting casually atop the fountain edge. Lance was about to ask what he was doing out here when his attention was drawn to the soft stream of smoke curling from something in his hand.  


 

  
  
“You _smoke?”_

 

 

Keith grinned “Every now and then.” He flourished the not-cigarette, trailing a loop of pale pink fumes“These are a galran specialty. Don’t worry, they’re harmless in small doses, even for humans.”

 

 

Lance clicked his tongue “Sneaking out at night after a party to get high? Keith Kogane, what _would_ your mother say?”

 

 

“My mother is the one who gave them to me.” 

 

 

“Why does that not surprise me?” Lance crossed the stance between them, Dropping to sit next to the other man. 

 

 

“I’m not high. They’re just muscle relaxants. Helps with tension.” He took a short drag, breathing out a stream of smoke before offering it to Lance “go ahead. You look like you need it more than me.”

 

 

Lance looked at him.

 

 

“what, You’d trust me to lead you into cosmic battle, but not with recreational drugs?”

 

 

With a sarcastic smile, he plucked it from his grasp “You’re a bad influence, you know that?” He pulled in a breath through the papery tube, half expecting to hack up his lungs. He was pleasantly surprised when the smoke flowed down his throat like warm cream, blossoming in his chest before sliding out quietly upon exhale.

 

 

“Wow. That’s…Weird.” He passed it back to Keith “Kinda nice, though. Do a lot of galra use this stuff?”

 

 

“A fair amount. Self medicating is a big thing in a society full of war veterans. I just use it when I can’t sleep.”

 

 

Lance wasn’t sure if it was just the placebo effect, but he could feel a gentle pull on his eyelids. “Anything, in particular, keeping you up?”

 

 

Keith looked out into the fields before the castle, dyed the deep blues of night. “Just memories, you know? There’s a lot of shit behind us. I guess being here for the reunion just brings some of that shit back to the surface. It’s worth it though, to see how much the planet is coming along. Allura would be happy.” He looked purposefully at Lance “don’t you think?”

 

 

“Yeah. She’d love it. It’s everything she dreamed of. ”

 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keith nod. “ I’ve visited a couple times in the last month. They really went all out for this reunion. Coran wanted it to be perfect.”

 

 

Lance’s now slightly foggy mind took a moment to register the meaning of Keith’s words.

 

 

“You’ve been visiting this planet?”

 

 

“Yeah. Just a couple times for refugee transport. I also came with mum for a dinner last week. She couldn’t make it to the ceremony, so we had an informal dinner ahead of time.”

 

 

The casual way Keith relayed the information cut at Lance. He had visited Altea. He’d been here with his mother for a dinner date. He’d worked around his schedule to make time for it.

 

 

_Keith_ , who, out of all the paladins, probably the most tenuous relationship with Allura, had made more of an effort than him. Hell, _krolia_ had made more of an effort than him.

 

 

He wanted to cry. Or laugh. He blamed the alien drug for being unable to choose. He settled on silence, instead.

 

 

_Oh! What she would think of you now!_

 

 

Keith was quiet for a small while after that. The babbling of the water sounded in their shared reflection. He took another drag from his cigarette before speaking again.  
  
  
“I’ve heard you haven’t been out much.”

 

 

And there it was; floated into the night sky on a cloud of pink smoke.

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

He could feel Keith’s eyes on him. Willing him to meet his gaze. He didn’t.  


 

  
  
“It must be hard for you. All of this.”

 

 

“It’s hard for everyone.”

 

 

“-And everyone deals with grief in different ways.” There was a quiet shuffle; Keith angling his body towards him “We all understand. Maybe not entirely, but enough to know you’re trying. Nobody holds it against you.”

 

 

Lance felt tired in a way that was completely unrelated to the smoke he’d inhaled “maybe they should.”

 

 

He half expected Keith to get angry at him for that. He never did like it when people moped. God, he’d really become pitiable, hadn’t he?

 

 

A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.

 

 

“Lance, look at me.”

 

 

He did. Keith’s dark eyes held him like a snare; 

 

 

“You’re not a bad person for wanting time to heal. I think we’ve all earned that as a right at this point.”

 

 

“I could have done something to help. Anything.” His mouth was moving on its own. There was something about the sincerity in Keith’s eyes that made him weak. Made all those little lies he’d stockpiled flutter away “It’s been a year and I have nothing to show for it.”

 

 

“You’re a paladin of Voltron. A _hero_. What more do you need to prove?”

 

 

“Says the golden child of planet Daibazaal.” he meant it as a joke, but the rawness of his voice rendered it bitter. He felt instant regret when Keith’s hand trembled on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

 

“It’s OK. Just trust me when I say I’m not nearly as necessary as the general public thinks I am. There’s a reason I turned down a leadership role. I know how to pick my battles.”

 

 

Lance’s lip twitched “Well that’d be a first.”

 

 

“Hey, back then I had you to save my ass. I’ve had to tread more lightly without my right hand man.”

 

 

warmth bloomed in his chest at the causal certainty of Keith’s words. 

 

 

“What should I do?” The question breezed out of him.

 

 

“What do you want?”

 

 

 _Peace. Comfort. meaning. Purpose. Closure._  


 

_  
“_ To be myself again.”

 

 

Keith passed the cigarette to Lance again. He took it with gratitude. “I think I’de like to see that too.”

 

 

There was a peace to Keith’s features. Lance wondered how long the black paladin had suspected his discontent, waiting for him to admit it to himself. Which Garrison videos call had tipped him off. Just how long had he been giving off the scent of a wounded animal? How obvious had it been?

 

 

Maybe not so much. Keith could probably recognise the wounds of grief better than anyone. He’d been raised with them. Shaped by them.

 

 

And here he was now, comforting _him_ over the loss of a mutual friend.

 

 

“Let’s be honest, you have bigger things to be worrying about than me, Keith.” Smoke streamed out of his lungs again, The rich smell of the spices making his head swim pleasantly.

 

 

“No. I really don’t.”

 

 

Lance gazed at him through wisps of pink smoke, into an expression so earnest he felt his cheeks burn under its intensity.

 

 

“You always had my back out there. I’ll have yours wherever you go. Whatever you decide to do.”

 

 

Lance swallowed thickly. Keith continued.

 

 

“I know it hurts, Trust me I _know,_ but I also know that you're more than your grief and that you’re stronger than it. It’ll happen slowly, but one day you’ll wake up and you’ll realise that you can breathe again. You just need time.”

 

 

Keith’s grip tightened slightly on his shoulder. Whether it was an affirming gesture or one of hesitation, he didn’t know.

 

 

“And I’ll be there if you need help. We all will.”

 

 

The muscles of Lance’s jaw clenched. A reflex he’d honed well over the past year when he felt the telltale tremble of emotion. It was a pointless exercise, given that moments later he abandoned any semblance of restraint by throwing his weight into the other man.

 

 

Keith didn’t so much as flinch at the sudden contact. He just wrapped his arms around him. It wasn’t like the handful of quick greeting hugs he’d had before; his body was relaxed and warm against the cool of the air. His clothes smelt of incense and his skin of menthol.

 

 

“I’m your friend, Lance. Before being a Dybazaali or a Blade. Hell, before being a paladin. You know that, right?” He murmured it into Lance’s shoulder, both terse and gentle in a concoction that was profoundly _Keith_.

 

 

“Thank you.” Lance refused to cry, but the tremor of his voice wasn’t quite masked by the sound of the turbid water. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

“You don’t need to apologise for anything. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting like this. I had a feeling, but I didn’t…I didn’t think it was this bad.” He started brushing his thumb gently across Lance’s back. It was almost a timid motion as if he thought it would be too much. 

 

 

Lance hugged him tighter, just to prove it wasn’t.

 

 

They stayed like that for a while, their embrace eventually becoming lax. The mix of the relaxants and the ambience of the courtyard filled Lance with an ease distinctly different to his tranquil home life. Quiet and peaceful, yet wholly alien; laced with a subtle thrill of being far, far away from the mundane. It was something he hadn’t felt in a while.

 

 

Surprisingly, it was Keith who broke the spell of silence.

 

 

“We should catch up more often. On Earth, I mean. Or wherever.”

 

 

Lance smiled, eyes heavy “yeah. I’d like that.”

 

 

“Then I’ll hold you to it.”

 

 

“You’d better.”

 

 

He felt Keith’s chest vibrate with a low chuckle before he extinguished his cigarette on the stone and pocketed it. “We should actually go to bed now. It’s late, and we have to get up early for that farewell breakfast.”

 

 

Lance blinked a couple of times, coming back to the world through his mental haze. “Guess you’re right. I hope it’s not as heavy as dinner. I’ll be semi-comatose for the rest of the day.”

 

 

Lance made to stand up and nearly toppled right back down again before Keith caught his arm.  
  
  
“Careful. Sleepy muscles, remember?”

 

 

“Thanks for the early warning.” 

 

 

“slipped my mind,” Keith said through a smirk.

 

 

They made their way back to the main entrance and through the corridors to the guest suites. The journey was slower than the one he’d taken when exiting, stretched out as they talked in quiet murmurs about Earth and the coalition and orchards and farmer’s markets.

 

 

They came to a stop in front of Lance’s room.  


 

  
  
“Thanks, Keith. For talking with me. And for sharing your weird alien drugs.”

 

 

“My pleasure. I’ll try to snag you some for your next birthday.”

  
  
  
“ You hold them. My mum would kill me if she knew I smoked anything. Let alone if I stashed it in the family home. I have to be a role model, you know.”

 

 

“Got it.”

 

 

A beat of silence.

 

 

“ I meant what I said. About meeting up again after this.”

 

 

Keith looked so serious when he said it. It was kind of adorable. Lance smiled reassuringly“I know. So did I.”

 

 

Keith nodded “Goodnight, Lance.” He searched his features, lips slightly parted, on the precipice of speech “Hold your head up. You’ve got so much to offer.”

 

 

And before Lance could properly respond, Keith had smiled, turned and started walking down the corridor to his own room.  


 

Lance stared after him, unable to form a response.

 

 

He was glad he’d taken those relaxants, otherwise he would have laid awake for hours analysing Keith’s words.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up again before dawn. They all did. Called to attention by the Lions’ last summon.

 

Deep down, they all knew the lions would eventually leave. They were created for a purpose and had fulfilled it. At least with them. They were tied to a greater fate, or perhaps to an endless rest in oblivion. In any case, all of them stared after their vessels with the knowledge it would be the last they saw of them.

 

 

The marks on Lance’s cheeks glowed with a subtle warmth as he watched Blue melt into the abyss of the Altean sky. It felt like a goodbye. A real one. She was moving on.

 

 

He glanced to his side, seeing Keith’s eyes fixed to the heavens.  


 

  
  
Lance thought maybe it was time he did, too.  


* * *

  


 

Years later, he would look back and realise that was probably the moment the marks began fading.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

End chapter one!  
  
Let me know what you think. Not sure exactly how many chapters there will be but they’ll probs bea similar length to this one.

 

 

This was the most angsty chapter so it’ll get sweeter from here.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance agonises over initiating contact.
> 
> Keith saves him the trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what I love? Sassy, carefree Keith. I also love farmer’s markets and incidental encounters.
> 
> Welcome to chapter 2!

 

Lance stared at Keith’s name. 

 

 

The sharp black angles of the text stood taunting him against the glow of his phone’s screen.

 

 

He was going to press it. He was going to press call.

 

 

It had been two weeks since he returned from Altea. That was long enough. A comfortable time frame to wait. Keith was back on earth for the rest of the month hanging out around the Garrison.

 

 

He was going to call him. Keith _wanted_ him to call. They would hang out together and it would be great.

 

 

Or.

 

 

_Or…_ He could call him tomorrow.

 

 

It was nearly 8:30 in the morning. Keith probably had his day booked up already. He was probably busy training or doing conferences with Garrison supply chain managers. He probably shouldn’t bother him.  


 

  
  
He had plenty to do himself today. Marco was bringing in some new sheep for the flock. He should really make sure the feed had been topped up. Or better yet, go buy some more. It was getting a little low last time he checked…

 

 

Yeah, he’d call Keith tomorrow. 

 

 

Or maybe on the weekend.

 

 

By the end of the weekend, _definitely_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At the Garrison flight facility cafe, Keith saw a kid with scruffy brown hair that reminded him of Lance.

 

 

“Hey, Veronica?”

 

 

“Hm?” She sat across the table from him, keeping her eyes glued to her schematics chart. Even on her lunch break, she was savagely diligent.  


 

  
“Your family has a stall at the eastern district farmer’s market on Sundays, right?”

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

“Does Lance go?”

 

 

At the mention of her brother she actually did look up at him “Yeah. Most times.”

 

 

“Cool.”

 

 

She raised a slender eyebrow, peering at him over her glasses “Sudden craving for local produce?”

 

 

“Shiro always says I should eat more vegetables.”

 

 

“Uh huh. Well, I’d also recommend the eggs and dairy. Lance might give you a discount.”

 

 

“Noted.”

 

 

“And for god’s sake don’t drive your monster of a bike anywhere near the main entrance. You’ll give the petting zoo animals trauma.”

 

 

“Also noted.” Keith leaned back into his chair, making the most of the morning sun that was bathing the cafe’s outdoor strip.

 

 

Veronica eyed him with scrutiny “Are you even working here today, Keith? I passed this cafe three times this morning and every time you’ve been here.”

 

 

Keith sipped at his herbal tea “I’m on call for consultation.”

 

 

“so that’s a ‘no’ then.” Veronica glanced at her watch, then Tapped deftly at her screen and reached for her satchel. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go help with the cadet simulator training. They start phase two trials in ten minutes.”

 

 

“I don’t think they like me ‘helping’ with those classes.”

 

 

“Well, I’m sure the kids will appreciate the celebrity distraction. At least make it _look_ like you’re a decorated Garrison official hard at work. I realise that on Daibazaal your superiors are probably harder taskmasters, but that doesn’t mean you should treat your alternations on Earth like holidays.”

 

 

Keith gave her a casual salute “I’ll give it my all, commander McLain.”

 

 

Veronica sighed and waved a dismissive goodbye. Keith opened up his phone and set an early alarm for Sunday morning.  
  
__________________________

 

 

“Lance! Sylvio dropped an egg crate!”

 

 

“Did not!”

 

 

“You did!”

 

 

“You pushed me!”

 

 

Lance sighed, tightening the strap of the family truck’s tarp with a sharp tug. “All right you two, just clean it up and get yourselves and the surviving eggs in the truck, we’re leaving soon.”

 

 

There was something about being up before dawn that made his niece and nephew bizarrely hyperactive. It was something of a morale booster, but it often lead to a predictable margin of broken and/or sullied goods and a few headaches.

 

 

 

Fortunately, Marco could usually reign them in. They loved their uncle Lance, but they didn’t respect his authority as much as their dad’s. Once they cleaned up the dozen eggs they’d broken, he waltzed into the garage and had them both quietened down and buckled in with a single command.

 

 

When they reached the Eastern district, the sky was just beginning to lighten and they set up alongside the nice old lady who sold preserves and always called him ‘Luke’. His parents flittered in and out of the area to set up the main produce displays with his brother as Lance worked on his niche of egg and dairy stock.

 

 

The markets no longer resembled the ones he remembered from when he was a kid. Every third stand nowadays was laden with alien produce and goods. Fortunately, it seemed humans would always have a soft spot for the simple pleasure of fresh milk and eggs. It was a secure line of business.

 

 

His favourite thing about this job was that everybody was already familiar with him. He was rarely bombarded with questions about himself or his time as a paladin. They all him well enough to know that it wasn’t a subject he wanted to talk about to the general public. Every time somebody new tried, he politely re-routed the conversation to his family’s farm life and their produce donation system. Once they realised they’d crossed some kind of line they usually felt abashed enough to buy something, anyway. It was a win-win situation.

 

 

At 6:30 the usual stream of early birds percolated through the stalls. Most with some kind of hot beverage in their hands, warming them against the chill of the early spring morning. Nadia and Sylvio went about their usual rounds of trying to pet any and all dogs that visitors had brought along.

 

 

It easy being here. Enough work to keep his mind from wandering too far, but enough downtime not to get aggravated.He took a deep breath in, basking in the ambience of low chatter and the sweet fragrance of the freesia flower beds wafting from the entry arches.

 

 

And then the moment was cut short with the distant roar of a very loud engine. 

 

 

He’d been around enough power-boosted alien engines in his time to instantly recognise it as a custom job. It had the unrestrained reverberative howl of a galran fighter propulsion system, chorused with the ethereal ring of Olkari hover technology. A combination made for speed and agility, and probably one skirting on illegal.

 

 

He could picture the machine pretty clearly. Big and dark-coloured. Maybe with some bright neon stripe and fancy interior leather seating. A rig for someone who had a lot of biker savvy and wanted the world to know it.

 

 

Keith had a bike like that.

 

 

The sound echoed into nothingness and was again replaced by the conversational murmuring of patrons. Unfortunately, now that that cursed thought had floated into his head, Lance realised he was going to spend the rest of the day agonising over the fact that he _still_ hadn’t called Keith.

  
  
  
_What is wrong with you? Just call him for god’s sake. It’s not hard. He’s expecting you to call him and you’re being an ass about it._

 

 

He’d tried. Really, really tried. Every time he went to press that name on his screen he couldn’t will his thumb to deliver the conclusive strike. It was like there was something holding him. Something whispering that it was a bad, bad idea.

 

 

His therapist said that something was ‘unwitting self-sabotage’. Lance wished he could disagree. Somehow knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

 

 

_on your break. call him as soon as you sit down to eat. Rip off the band-aid._

 

 

A couple of hours and it would be done. No excuses. Huffing resolutely, he strode into the back the stall to replace the depleted mandarin stock. They had a lot to get through today so their price had dropped significantly and they were already being snapped up. He knew that odd balmeran-galra family would come over at some point and buy out the whole shelf. They had a bizarre citrus fixation to the point where he almost felt irresponsible selling it to them. Like he was dealing in illicit substances.

 

Arms laden with a crate of fragrant orange fruit, he pushed back the tarp and walked into the shop front.  


 

  
  
“Hey Marco, you want me to extend out the display for the-”

 

 

Lance nearly jolted out of his skin when he saw Keith standing in front of the counter, scrutinising a single egg in his hand. He scrabbled to keep his hold on the crate, only losing a few mandarins in the process.

 

 

Keith looked up at him, smiling “Hi Lance.”

 

 

There was something very surreal about seeing Keith here, to the point where his mind was struggling to map what was actually happening. Keith was starkly out of place in the pastel rainbow backdrop of the market; sporting his full biker gear, ear piercings and windswept loose ponytail. He was about as far out of the patron demographic spectrum as Lance could imagine. 

 

 

The most environmentally appropriate thing about him was the tartan-print hessian bag looped around his elbow. And somehow that just made him look more inconceivable.

 

 

“Hi?” 

 

 

Keith put the egg back in its carton. Lance placed the crate on the back counter and cleared his throat. His mind was screaming bloody murder and he scrambled for literally anything to say.

 

 

“I, uh,Didn’t think farmer’s markets were really your scene.”

 

 

“What makes you think that?” The question sounded amusingly genuine.

 

 

“No reason, I guess.” He tried to angle his posture in some semblance of a casual pose “So what brings you to my humble family stall?”

 

 

“I had some downtime and I wondered how you were doing.” Keith spoke directly, keeping his eyes fixed on him “I hadn’t heard back from you.”

 

 

Seconds ticked by, and Keith just stared, awaiting a response. 

 

 

Oh, this was awkward.

 

 

The screaming in his head started up again, and he was sorely tempted to start bashing his head against the stalls load-bearing poles. “Sorry, man. I meant to call earlier. I wanted to- I just,” Keith is gazing at him with something like pity. He’s familiar with every shade of that look by now. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I get that it’s just like that sometimes.”

 

 

“I told you I’d call back and I didn’t. It was a jerk move.”

 

 

“ I know you would have done it eventually. I just thought I’d beat you to it. As I said, I had some downtime.”

 

 

“This place isn't exactly close to the Garrison. Sorry you had to come all the way out.”

 

 

“I like driving my speeder in the outer districts.”

 

 

“So that _was_ you roaring down the road before? It sounded a little different…”

 

 

“Some upgrade materials I got my hands on.” There was a slight tint of pride to his features. Krolia had started teaching him advanced vehicle mechanics a while back as a mother-son bonding thing when she visited Earth. Turns out she loved fast, dangerous deathtraps even more than Keith. He’d probably gotten pretty savvy with upgrades by now.

 

 

“I’m sure it’s the envy of all the vehicle owners passing whatever dirt patch you could find to park it in.”

 

 

“It’s a nice speeder. I won’t deny it.” Keith looked around him. lance caught his profile; scar appearing just a touch more faded than he remembered from their time in space. Less angry. “I’m glad I came. It’s peaceful here.” He said easily.

 

 

“You don’t have to pretend to be into farmer’s markets Keith. I won’t be offended.”

 

 

Keith looked back at Lance “I’ve actually wanted to check this place out for a while.” 

 

 

Lance raised an eyebrow.

 

 

“No, really. Every alternation I take a load of earth produce back with me. For gifts and stuff. I always get a kick out of the weird looks they give me at the customs border. Do you know how wild galra on Daibazaal think the concept of honey is? ”

 

 

“ They think beekeeping is ‘ _wild_ ’? They make magical transforming weapons on the regular.”

 

 

“Yeah, but they _don’t_ make honey.”

 

 

Lance nodded “fair point. So can I get you any McLain family farm goods to add to your souvenir list?”

 

 

 

Something sparked in Keith’s eyes and he opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it a moment later, apparently thinking better of it. 

 

 

 

“What do you recommend?” He said neutrally.

 

 

“You like mandarins?” He gestured to the crate at his side. “I got a lot of mandarins.”

 

 

Keith looked at the crate “I can see that, ace of sales.” 

 

 

“I’m hearing a ‘yes’ on the mandarins. I’ll pick you some good ones.” Lance started plucking the fruit from the pile, laying them down on the counter scale.

 

 

“Veronica recommends the milk. You still have that cow going strong?”

 

 

“Kalternecker is fit and sturdy as ever. She’s also a great marketing tool. Who wouldn’t want to drink the milk of the first cow to achieve interstellar travel?”

 

 

“Me.”

 

 

“Don’t be a lactose-intolerant smart ass, Keith.”

 

 

“She said you’d give me a discount on the eggs.”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

“What if I buy more mandarins?”

 

 

Lance leant one arm on the counter conspiratorially “How many more are we talking?”

 

 

 

“Keith, is that you?” Marco’s voice emanated from behind Lance as he pushed through the back curtain with a cool box in hand “Haven’t seen you in ages! How are you, man?”

 

 

 

“Hi, Marco. I’m doing great. How are you and the kids?”

 

 

Lance listened to his brother and Keith exchange small talk. He’d nearly forgotten that they’d met last year at a fundraised for new refugee housing lots. He’d met his entire family, actually. They had all seemed quite fond of the taciturn paladin.

 

 

“-so you come here to flirt with my little brother or what?”

 

 

“Marco!”

 

 

“Not exactly, but he’s free to join me for a coffee on his break if he wants.” Said Keith.

 

 

Lance stared at him. He was looking irritatingly nonplussed by his brother’s insinuation.

 

 

“That’s a great idea! Lance, go away.”

 

 

“What? I’m running the stall!” He gestured desperately to the sparse area before him.

 

 

“It’s quiet. If I need an extra pair of hands I can get dad to cover. Go talk to your friend.”

 

 

He pivoted to look at Keith, who was innocently prodding at some tomatoes like the conniving ass he was.

 

 

“Fine. Make sure you keep the milk rotated.” He untied his apron and hung it on a clothes hook on his way out, making his way to Keith’s side of the counter.

 

 

Marco rang up Keith’s total and placed the fruits in the tartan bag. Keith swiped his card against the payment screen. “You kids enjoy!”

 

 

Lance made sure there were no children in the vicinity before subtly flipping off his brother from behind Keith.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So let me get this straight; You are a humanitarian aid group, but you still call yourselves “the _Blades_ of Marmora?”

 

 

“We can’t really change it. It’s a cultural thing,” Keith wiped his fruit-juice stained hands on the cafe-provided napkin “besides, we still fight to protect people. We still use the blades.”

 

 

“Just seems a bit aggressive.”

 

 

Keith shrugged “That’s just galra language convention. You should have heard the vows at the wedding of one of my mum’s former students. They kept reciting how their love would go on through a number of increasingly gruesome deaths.

 

 

“Sounds like it was a beautiful ceremony.”

 

 

“I don’t know. I thought it was nice.” Keith stirred his drink absently. Tea without milk. Coffee didn’t didn’t agree with his galra makeup and dairy didn’t agree with his human genes. Coffee with Keith really meant coffee next to Keith and his hot leaf water. “Galra ceremonies are always…Interesting, at least.”

 

 

Lance sipped at his own drink. It was nice hearing Keith talk so openly about his life. He was a reserved person by nature, but given a trusted, willing ear he could articulate his thoughts and feelings with remarkable clarity. He’d learnt it during his time in the abyss, he assumed. Forced reflection for two years would do to a person. “It seems you’ve really taken to the galra way of life.”

 

 

“It’s a big part of my life, yeah. But it’s still just a part.” Keith sighed, looking a little tired“Daibazaal is rebuilding from a really weird place. It’s not like Altea’s revival. There are so many different factions and sects and races of galra, all coming from different backgrounds and merging under a common banner for the first time in Millenia. It’s a positive step, but it’s messy.”

 

 

Keith looked up at him. “I want to be there with my mum and the Blades and help rebuild and provide support, but I also want to be here, on Earth. At the Garrison. With you and the other paladins. This is my home too. I was born and raised here.”

 

 

“ So you split your time between them. Sounds like a lot of work.”

 

 

“It can be. But at least this way I can have it both ways.”

 

 

Lance smirked “So which way is easier? Veronica’s told me that you’re kind of a slacker at the Garrison.”

 

 

“ Veronica calls everyone a slacker. But I’ll admit that Earth is a more relaxed environment than Daibazaal at the moment. I take advantage of that. When I’m not at the Garrison, I just chill. Go for rides, visit the others…”

 

 

“Go to farmer’s markets?”

 

 

“Exactly.” Keith smiled “It’s a weird life, but it’s pretty good. Better than I ever thought I’d ever get when I was a kid.”

 

 

There it was again, that soft, peaceful look that managed to take every hard edge of Keith’s persona and make it smooth.

 

 

Lance berated himself or feeling a twinge of jealousy. Keith had earned this. grieved and bled for it almost his entire life. The stars had never been in his favour, so he’d had to wrangle them into a more merciful constellation himself.

 

 

Something in Lance’s chest fluttered, overshadowing the spot of bitterness. He thought it felt like pride. Maybe laced with a little admiration.“I’m glad that you’ve found a home, Keith. You deserve it, after everything the universe put you through.”

 

 

Keith looked strangely bashful after Lance spoke, momentarily dipping his gaze to the off-white of the plastic cafe table they sat at. “Thanks. I used to think that I’de never fit in anywhere like there wasn’t any Keith-shaped vacancy in the universe that I could call my own. Eventually, I gave up trying to find one, and just clung to anything that made me feel less alone. Shiro, the stuff my dad left behind, my knife.”

 

 

 

“And now you’ve found it? Your place in the universe?” Lance prompted, listening intently. Keith’s trials echoed some too-similar emotions. He had to hear more.

 

 

Keith tilted his head in consideration “In a way. I don’t think I ever did find that specific ‘home’ I was looking for. I think I just…broadened my definition of the word. Back in the abyss, my mum told me that or identities are ours to define, and that no one else could make them for us. At the time I just thought she was talking about making peace with being galra under the empire rule, but I think I understand it better now.”

 

 

 

Keith paused and looked purposely up at Lance. 

 

 

“I chose this life. built it. And that’s what makes it mine. I’m proud of that, and everyone I choose to share it with.”

 

 

The way Keith looked at him then was almost unbearable. His eyes were dancing with light and creased slightly at the edges with mirth. His brows were relaxed and his bangs drifted airily across his forehead in the light breeze.

 

 

He looked so kind like this. Like the world never did him an ounce of wrong. 

 

 

God, He wanted that weightlessness. He wanted to wear it as well as Keith. He wanted some of that light to warm him.

 

 

“Lance?”

 

 

He realised he hadn’t really responded to Keith’s heartfelt monologue and brought his mind back into the moment.

 

 

“Sorry, I just got a bit lost in memories for a moment. Thinking back to that punk who busted me out of formation in the flight drills and what he’d make of you.”

 

 

Keith’s smile widened “That punk didn’t know how to make friends. I have it on good authority that he’s not as much of an ass anymore.”

 

 

“It seems so.”

 

 

They spoke for hours after that. Mostly on the subject of blade missions and Garrison tech developments. Keith had recently been very active in planning defensive escorts for more sturdy medical shipments to and from the Garrison medical sector. He clearly had a passion for helping people. He always did, really. Now he just seemed to be much more willing to admit it.

 

 

Before long, Lance’s phone alert lit up. Nearly midday; time to mark down produce and prepare for pack up.

 

 

“Damn, have we really been talking that long?”

 

 

Keith shrugged.

 

 

“I better get going. Got to help Marco pack up. ”

 

 

“Do you guys want a hand? I’ve got nowhere to be today.”

 

 

“Nah, it’s OK. We have a pretty solid system. But you’re welcome to buy out any of the discount stock that’s left.”

 

 

“Sounds good. Does that old lady next to you sell fig preserve?”

 

 

Lance stood up, brushing off his shirt “Yeah, I think so.”

 

 

Keith picked up his back and made to follow Lance out to the main strip “Good. It’s my mum’s favourite.”

* * *

 

Lance eyed Keith as he loaded the last of the emptied crates into the back of Marco’s truck. He was talking with his mother raised the last remnants of their dismantled stall. They were too far away to hear, but they appeared to both be enthusiastic about something. His mum especially so.

 

 

“Lance! Come over here.”

 

 

Here was about to find out why. He dropped the crate he was holding and walked over to the two, brushing off his hands. Keith had yet another slightly mischievous smile on his face. Too subtle for his mother to pick up on, but more than apparent to him.

 

 

“Keith had a great idea for the farm!”

 

 

Lance looked at Keith sceptically “yeah?”

 

 

“Colleen has been wanting to test out some of her new plant growth additives in the local agricultural regions. It’s already been showing great results in the lab and she needs volunteers to test out in the field. I told her I’d ask the McLains if they were interested in a trail. Subsidised, of course.”

 

 

“We’d be delighted!” His mum chirped.

 

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

“Lance can come and pick up the trial stock as soon as it’s ready!”

 

 

Lance turned to her “What?”

 

 

“Will he need to take the truck? How bulky is it?”

 

 

“Why am I the one-”

 

 

“A normal car would be fine, but-” Keith seemed to register Lance’s distress “I can deliver it to you myself if you’d like. I have some free time this coming week.”

 

 

“Nonsense! Lance will do it. He needs to get out of the house more often, and I’m sure he’d love to visit the Garrison again.”

 

 

Truthfully, Lance felt extremely conflicted about visiting the Garrison again. He opened his mouth to convey his sentiment before catching his mother’s pleading look.

 

 

_Please, Lance. Do this for me. Please._

 

 

He shut his mouth, guilt washing over him. He’d hurt her, over this past year. Not intentionally, but his grief had been hers. Her youngest son’s melancholy burned at her in the worst way.

 

 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice.” He turned to Keith, who was waiting patiently for a response “I’ll pick up Colleen's magic dirt on Tuesday. Send me a time and where to go. I’m sure the Garrison hasn’t gotten any smaller since I last visited.”

 

 

“It definitely hasn’t. I’ll send you a meeting point and lead you to the lab from there myself.”

 

 

“Do you actually do any work for them? I’m beginning to think they just keep you there out of obligation.”

 

 

His mother nudged him with her elbow “Don’t be rude! Keith is being very nice to you.”

 

 

Keith laughed. A soft and deep sound that struck a weird chord in Lance. “It’s Ok Mrs McLain. Lance and I have a long history of being rude to each other. It’s fair game.”

 

 

“Still, he should be more thankful he has such considerate friends. And call me Leah, sweetheart.” 

 

 

“Thank you, Leah.”

 

 

Lance gave Keith a dry look from behind his mother’s shoulder. Keith just smiled sweetly.

 

 

“see you Tuesday, lance.” Keith inclined the bag hanging from his elbow “Thanks for the mandarins. Are you sure you don’t need a hand with anything here, leah?”

 

 

“She waved her hand dismissively “No, no. You go enjoy the rest of your day. Come visit any time you want. Here or at our home. You’re always welcome.”

 

 

Lance barely restrained himself from a hearty eye-roll. He didn’t like the fact that Keith had learned such good manners and social etiquette over his time working alongside Krolia in the diplomatic sphere. Like all his other skillsets, he used charm acutely and without mercy. It made him too powerful.

 

 

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer sometime soon. have a great day.”

 

 

Lance watched as Keith sauntered away, briefly stopping next to Marco to give what was no doubt an equally endearing farewell.

 

 

“What a lovely young man he is. You should spend more time with him.” She side eyed him “He seems to like you a lot.”

 

 

Lance was tempted to recount Keith’s brushes with alien drugs and illegal vehicle enhancements, just to wipe that knowing look off his mother’s face. Instead, he just huffed.

 

 

“He’s just happy I gave him discounted eggs.” Of course, Keith had insisted of paying the full price difference in their donation tin. The smarmy bastard.

 

 

His mother laughed and patted him on the back fondly.

 

 

“Let’s go home. We need to plan where we’re going to put our ‘magic dirt’ crops.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lance collapsed on his bed; arms and back aching and hair still a little damp from the shower. He could hear his Niece and Nephew bickering about something downstairs; rowdy as ever before their bedtime.

 

 

Going to the weekend markets always made him realise what a bubble his home was. A safe, loving sanctuary in the shitstorm that had been the war’s fallout. There was nothing here to harm him or let him fall. He could keep his mind and body occupied and rest easy knowing that it would all be there waiting for him the next day.

 

 

There was nothing to challenge him.

 

 

And now there was Keith, out of absolutely nowhere.

 

 

Keith with his otherworldly intrigues and adventure stories and connections and his distinct air of _something_ that made him just so damn hard to decipher.

 

 

And now his house felt just a touch too small for him.

 

 

He dragged his phone from his dresser and swiped open the contact list. Keith’s name flashed in his vision and he opened up their message log, pointedly ignoring the fact that the last message was time-stamped from four months ago and read “ _Yeah, maybe next time_.”

 

 

He started typing, emboldened by the day’s events.

 

 

> Send me deets for Tuesday. Also, don’t flirt with my mother. She’s a hopeless romantic

 

 

Before he could even be tempted to wait for a response, he placed his phone face-down on his dresser, turned off his lights and tucked himself under the covers.

 

 

His therapist would be proud.

 

 

* * *

  


 

An hour later Lance’s phone lit up with a message 

 

 

> Meet me at the bike shed near the flight wing parking lot  
> Also I wasn’t flirting. It’s called being charming, Lance  
> You should try it some time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Chapter 3 coming soon.


	3. Stirring dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance returns to the Garrison for the first time in nearly a year.
> 
> Keith struggles with a request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going up late Christmas eve by my timezone, so Merry Christmas/ Happy holidays to anyone reading! Hope you enjoy this chapter and have a great day!
> 
> Also, I don't think I mentioned this before, but this fic is named after "Like the Dawn" by the Oh Hellos. It's a very sweet song and I think about it when I write :)

The moment Lance parked his family car next to a row of clean, expensive looking faculty vehicles in the flight department’s parking lot, he instantly felt out of his depth.

 

He stepped out onto the asphalt and locked the car behind him, taking in the sheer immensity of his surroundings. Everything was so familiar, and yet it all felt so far away. Like a dreamlike rendition of a world he once knew intimately well. Eerie, surreal and wholly incomprehensible.

 

 

The flight department was still the crown jewel of the Garrison, even now. It’s authoritative stature loomed ahead of him, more intimidating than ever with the several new additions speckled atop and around its mass. 

 

It was strange. By all accounts, he and the others had one-upped the Garrison in every conceivable way. They’d been the ones to make first contact. The ones to retrieve the Holts, warn the Earth of Invasion and represent the Earth in the quest for intergalactic peace.

 

 

And yet Lance somehow still felt like he was too small to be standing here, at the gates of the institution. Unworthy. It was ridiculous.

 

 

A couple of cadets walked across the carpark, chatting animatedly to each other. They both carried orange and white binders, thick with what he assumed were astrophysics cheat sheets and scrawled notes on safety procedures in the event of an airlock breach.

 

 

It was hard to believe he’d been like them not four years ago. It felt like a different life.

 

 

They passed him without a glance. Lance probably looked like someone's older brother come to drop off a paper they forgot. He was dressed in his smartest slacks and T-shirt, but it hardly looked like much compared to the crisp, pressed uniforms of most Garrison-goers.

 

 

Of course, the marks would have been a dead giveaway to his identity. But over the last year, his hair had grown enough to curl inwards and partially obscure them. Something he hated that he felt thankful for.

 

 

He headed toward the bike shack at the end of the lot. He could see Keith leaning against the structure, facing away from him. He was concentrating on his tablet.

 

 

Intrigued, and intent on getting Keith back for his shock appearance at the market the other day, Lance snuck up behind him.

 

 

As he approached within a few feet of the other man, he realised he was talking to someone. Krolia, he assumed. He was speaking in old Galran; a relatively rare language she’d taught him in the abyss that was not easily mapped by universal translators. Lance couldn’t understand a word of it, but He sounded a little agitated.

 

 

Inner gossip getting the best of him, he inched closer so he could see over Keith’s shoulder.

 

 

It definitely wasn’t Keith’s mother, though he looked about her age-however little that meant given how mildly galran features expressed time. His features were sharp and almost fox-like with dark stripes cutting down through his eyes. Though he looked galra, he had a frame of black fur on the crown of his head and lining his sensitive looking ears; a genetic trait he didn’t think he’d ever seen in a full-blooded specimen. From what he could see in on the screen, he was wearing rich, formal robes of deep blue. Probably someone important.

 

Most strikingly, instead of the typical galran yellow, his sclera was pitch black. Like Keith's wolf. 

 

The mystery galra talked in a deep, oddly melodious voice that made Keith’s annoyed responses sound childishly petulant. Through the screen he could see the man’s ears flicking happily as he enunciated, flourishing the multiple piercings that rang along their length. The two seemed to have a comfortable dynamic going on. 

 

 

Lance began to feel a bit too intrusive. he thought it best to end the ploy.

 

 

“Hey Keith, what’s up?”

 

 

Keith gave a satisfying jolt of surprise and yelped something in galran before whipping around to face him“Jesus Lance, where did you come from?”  


 

  
  
Lance gestured vaguely behind him “My car.”

 

 

The galra on the screen laughed and said something that sounded intentionally obnoxious. Keith glared at him before uttering something short and ending the call.

 

 

“Sorry, had to take that.”

 

 

“A buddy from Daibazaal?”

 

 

Keith narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular “Something like that. He was just filling me in on some stuff coming up. Nothing major.”

 

 

“Ok, keep your space mysteries then. Shall we get going? I’m itching to see that dirt.” Lance was itching to get this done, truthfully. The vague anxiety was clawing at him the whole way here. He was thankful that Keith was here, at least. He was something of an anchor.

 

 

Keith stuffed the tablet back into his satchel. It was colour coordinated with his Red and white custom paladin-issue garb “Yeah, I’ll take you to Colleen’s lab. I warn you, Pidge caught wind of your visit and she’s waiting there too. Also, Shiro wants to see you before you leave.”

 

 

Lance knew that would probably be the case, but another wash of anxiety fell over him at the thought. “Sounds like a good time.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lance definitely would have got lost without Keith’s directions.

 

 

If the building looked different from the outside, the inside was an entirely different world. Gone were the tight halls and enclosed offices of the old flight wing, replaced by wide-open rooms dotted with workstations, huge holographic screens and alive with faculty members and cadets whipping purposefully to god-knows-where.

 

 

What alien engineering could accomplish in less than a year was incredible. The only thing Lance recognised was the plaques decorating the feature wall of the reception room; remnants of the pre-war Garrison’s achievements no doubt paling under the rapid, gargantuan feats brought on by alien mingling.

 

 

Keith must have recognised his dumbstruck wonder “Impressive, huh?”

 

 

“That doesn’t begin to describe it.”

 

 

“Wait until you see the ships. Some of the engineers and tech’s have lost their minds if you ask me.”

 

 

“But you’ve flown them all, right?”

 

 

“Of course.”

 

 

Keith swiped them through door after door; twisting and turning though bizarre rooms filled with humans and a vast assortment of aliens, all sporting the orange and whites of the institution. More than a few waved and greeted Keith as he breezed past. A couple even recognised Lance, despite his casual dress. Fortunately, Keith seemed to pick up on Lance’s unrest and politely extricated them from any social interaction beyond a quick ‘hello’.

 

 

It was odd seeing Keith so at ease with other people in the Garrison. Most of his memories of him in this place featured an angry, broody kid that wanted as little to do with others as possible. It seemed now that, like his family, the people here had genuine respect and admiration of him. Hell, they seemed to _like_ him. It was amazing.

 

 

Finally, they arrived at a door marked ‘C. Holt, Horticulture’. it didn’t have an active keypass lock. Colleen allowed anyone to visit.  
  
  
She was standing in the centre of the green room when they walked in, surrounded by islands of vibrant plant growth. At the sound of their footsteps, she looked up.

 

 

“Good morning, keith,” Her eyes flicked to Lance and she smiled warmly “and Lance, it’s so good to see you again. You look well.”

 

 

“Thanks Colleen. It’s good to see you, too. Being around plants is good for themind and body, as I’m sure yo”-

 

 

Lance was cut off by a vicious side-tackle from Pidge.

 

 

“Lance! Good to see you, man.”

 

 

Lance returned her aggressive hug. “Give me some warning next time, Pidge. I need to brace for impact.”

 

“Just making sure you’re still keeping on your toes. Which apparently you’re not.” She let go, beaming up at him. “You’ve gotten taller. Good for you.”

 

 

“You haven’t. What a shame.”

 

 

“Mum! Lance is bullying me. Oh, hey Keith.” She gave Keith a nod “actually doing something useful today, or just bumming around with your farmer pal here?”

 

 

“Colleen, your daughter is bullying me.” He said in a monotone.

 

 

The woman politely ignored him “Pidge, why don’t you go grab the starter packages. I’ll fill Lance in.”

 

 

“‘k. Keith, come help me get it onto the trolley. it’s heavy.”

 

 

Keith turned to Lance. “Meet me in Shiro’s office when you’re done. If you need directions Pidge will help.”

 

  
“aren’t you staying?”

 

 

“I’m not a farmer. This information is just gonna go straight through my head. I’ll be more useful getting this stuff down to your car. Speaking of which, keys?”

 

 

Lance pulled his keys out of his pocket and threw them into Keith’s waiting hands.

 

 

“Have fun.” 

 

 

He watched Keith breeze out of the room after Pidge, carelessly brushing his hands across a patch of soft-looking moss as he went.

 

 

“ I was so glad to hear your family agreed to help with the trials, lance. It’s always good to work with people who are already familiar with the nature of our operations here.” She gestured to her office “If you’ll come with me, I’ll give a quick rundown of the initiative.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith waltzed into Shiro’s office, dropping himself onto the armchair in the corner that he reserved for naps and cradling a Garrison-issue mug of green tea.

 

 

“Lance will be coming in soon.”

 

 

Shiro looked up from the report he was reading "Good morning to you too, Keith.”

 

 

“Morning” 

 

 

“How is he holding up now?”

 

 

“Better. I think being here is a little weird for him, but he was happy to see Pidge and Colleen. He’s just overwhelmed. It must look so different to him.”

 

 

“ That’s understandable. It’s been a while.” Shiro took off his glasses and leant back in his chair “It’s good to have him back on the grounds in any case.”

 

 

“yeah.”

 

 

Shiro glanced over at his little brother “You ask him yet?”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

“Time’s ticking…”

 

 

“I know Shiro. I’m just,” Keith ran a hand through his hair “I just need the right opportunity. He’s…Delicate at the moment. I can’t just spring it on him.”

 

 

“You’re afraid he’ll say no?”

 

 

“I don’t know. I guess. I’ve been getting along really well with him and I don’t want to make it weird.”

 

 

“There’s nothing _weird_ about it. You’re just asking a good friend to be your plus one, that’s all. Just think of it like that.”

 

 

Keith groaned.

 

 

“Krolia asked _me_. That wasn’t weird.”

 

 

“She only asked you because she knew _I_ would ask you and she wanted me to bring someone else.”

 

 

“She was right to do it. You need to open up your social circle.”

 

 

“I’m plenty social!”

 

 

“Work colleagues and students don’t count.”

 

 

“Lance was technically a work colleague…”

 

 

“You know it’s not the same.”

 

 

Of course, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same because it was Lance, and the man had a very particular place in Keith’s estimation. One that Shiro, unfortunately, saw all too well.

 

 

“I know,” he conceded “but I don’t need you bothering me about this. I’m getting enough hassle already.”

 

 

“Krolia on your case?”

 

 

“Yeah. And Anrei’s getting more persistent too. He called just before Lance arrived and he’ll probably call again tonight. You’d really think he’d have better things to do."

 

 

“I’d imagine it’s an important event for him. And Krolia will be pretty disheartened if her son turns up alone to his own honouring ceremony.”

 

 

Keith sunk further into the plush chair. That was a low blow, but he was right. “I’ll ask him. I will. By the end of the week. I just need the right moment.”

 

 

“Well, I hope that moment comes soon. I wouldn’t put it past Anrei to pair you with one of his acolytes as payback for making him wait this long.”

 

 

Keith cringed internally at the thought. “It’ll happen soon. I’ll make sure it does.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Aaaaand here’s the big man’s office.”

 

 

Pidge flourished sarcastically at the door emblazoned with the ex-black paladin’s name. 

 

 

“Admiral Takashi Shirogane, huh?”

 

 

“Yeah, none of us call him any of those names. Not unless we’re speaking in classes or something. Relax.”

 

 

“You coming in?”

 

 

“Nah. I’ll see him later for some grant reviews. I’ gonna go help with a lab session over in the technology department. Advanced, hyper resilient robotics is on the agenda this week.”

 

 

“Have fun nerd. Thanks for the directions.” 

 

 

“No problem.” Pidge’s smile softened “It really is good to see you here again, Lance. Hasn’t been the same without you.”

 

 

“It’s nice to be back. Nicer than I thought it would be.” It was the truth. He felt like he’d acclimatised to the intimidating energy. Now the bustle was more energising than anxiety-inducing.

 

 

“I’ll see you ‘round, then.”

 

 

“You got it.” Lance waved her off and she disappeared off down the hall. He turned to walk into Shiro’s office.

 

 

His eyes immediately focused on Shiro’s beaming face.

 

  
  
“Welcome back Lance! It’s been ages. Come and sit down.”

 

 

The energy in his voice was palpable, and Lance’s hello sounded positively feeble in response. As he walked to sit in the chair in front of Shiro expansive office desk, he caught sight of Keith slouched like a delinquent in a chair in the corner, nursing a cup of tea.

 

 

“Keith, go get Lance something to drink.”

 

 

The man in question huffed and hoisted himself out of his seated position. He looked at Lance “Tea or coffee?”

 

 

“Coffee. With heaps of milk, which I will easily digest.”

 

 

Keith gave him a scathing smile and walked across the room into what he assumed was an attached kitchen area.

 

 

“Nice office.”

 

 

“They treat me well here.”

 

 

“About time.”

 

 

Shiro grinned “You’re looking great. All that fresh air must be doing you good.”

 

 

The hiss of the hot water dispenser emanated from the out-of-sight room, followed by the sound of a metal spoon hitting porcelain. “It definitely beats recycled ship air. You’re looking well, too. How’s the new position treating you, Admiral?”

 

 

“It’s been going pretty smoothly. Loads more paperwork, but the stress is nothing compared to what we’ve been through. It’s been a busy year, but a good one.”

 

 

Lance registered the frame sitting on Shiro’s desk amongst neat assortments of stationary and folders. It was angled just enough to see Shiro, arm looped around the waist of Curtis. They looked like they were at a beach somewhere. A holiday. Shiro took them more liberally now, Keith had told him.

 

 

“Yeah, it seems like it has.”

 

 

“And you? How are things holding up at the McLain ranch?”

 

 

It was an open question, one that allowed him to craft the recount around sensitive topics; Shiro forever being receptive to the sensitivities of his team. It was one of the things Lance admired most about him.

 

 

His hero-gone-mentor listened with rapt attention as he talked. He didn’t think Shiro would be that invested in small-scale agriculture, but he engaged in the conversation; asking questions and adding tidbits here and there. He was especially interested in the trial program they had enrolled in.

 

 

Keith returned shortly after he left, handing Lance what was essentially a cup of hot milk with a couple of tea biscuits on the saucer. He stayed quiet for the most part, joining in only to deliver a few corrections and a handful of jabs at Lance’s expense.

 

 

It was nice. That was all Lance could really say. Just talking so easily with people who knew him so well. Knew everything he had been through. Who had been through it _with_ him. 

 

 

“So, have you thought about taking a trip off-planet any time soon? The Garrison just got a new line of very nice interplanetary cruisers. Free of charge for you and your family, of course.”

 

 

The question was casual, but there’s no way Shiro didn’t realise how many issues he was skirting by asking it. The way Keith’s eyes set hard on his brother confirmed his suspicion. This was something they’d talked about when he wasn’t around, for sure.

 

 

Lance “Yeah, I’ve been kind of thinking about it, actually. It’s been a while since I’ve gone somewhere. Just for the hell of it, I mean.”

 

 

To his surprise, Lance realised he actually meant it. And not just because he didn’t want to disappoint Shiro when he looked so enthused about the idea. Maybe it was being around the high energy buzz of the Garrison, but he could feel a stir. The familiar hunger for adventure. The same feeling he had back when he was a fresh recruit. The surge that pushed him to climb aboard Blue back in that cave where it all started.

 

 

The desire to fly for the stars. It was shy and tremulous, but there.

 

 

Lance suddenly felt a deep pang of longing “Somewhere far away. Where I’ve never been.”

 

 

He could feel the other two’s gazes on him, and he realised he’d drifted off airily. He snapped his attention back to Shiro. “Any places you’d recommend?”

 

 

“I could think of a few,” Shiro flicked his eyes over to Keith, who was being very quiet in his corner. “What about you, Keith? Any recommendations?”

 

 

Keith gave Shiro another hard look. Lance dunked his biscuit in his remaining coffee, intrigued by the weird tension he’d apparently caused between them.

 

 

His eyes stayed locked on the older man “I’ll have to think about it.”

 

 

Shiro turned back to Lance, smiling “I can give you some pamphlets.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After talking with Shiro, Keith had taken him on a full tour of the new training facilities, they’d had lunch at the enormous new cafeteria and spent a couple hours going through the commemorative hall. A newer addition to the facility at whose centre stood a statue of Allura dressed in her Altean attire and smiling serenely. The central image of sacrifice, plaque wreathed in a circle of long-lasting Juniberries. Engineered especially by Colleen to adorn the princesses name.

 

 

Keith had offered to give him some time alone when they walked into the hall. Lance refused. He’d spent far too much time alone already. Instead, they’d both sat on the surrounding benches, recounting their fondest memories with the princess.

 

 

It was probably the first time in a year that he’d talked about her without feeling the crush of grief. The hurt was there but placated by the joy the memories carried, embellished with laughter and a fondness that was warmed by nostalgia. 

 

 

It was the kind of warmth that his marks used to give him, back when he was in the desperate depths of grief. A lifeline that drifted from him as he became numb. As Keith reminisced about one time he’d accidentally locked one of Allura’s mice into his gym locker (and nearly been suplexed Altean style as a result), he felt a warmth in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the markings.

 

 

By the time they made it back to the family car, it was glinting gold with the late afternoon sun. Most of the students had either left or returned to their dorms and the parking lot was far more sparse than it had been when Lance had arrived.

 

 

“You’re gonna need these.”

 

 

Keith chucked Lance his keys without warning, forcing him to scramble to catch them out of reflex.

 

 

Lance glared at him half-heartedly once he’d regained his composure “so everything is already packed?”

 

 

Keith patted the worn metal of the trunk “ Yeah. All ready to go.”

 

 

“Thanks for the help.”

 

 

“No problem. It wasn’t that heavy.”

 

 

“No, I mean thanks for all of it. For sticking with me all day.” Lance found it hard to keep his eyes on Keith as he spoke. Instead, he casually cast his gaze over the visual splendour of the institution “I know it probably sounds dumb but I was kinda…nervous about coming back. Even about Seeing Shiro and Pidge. It helped, having you here, so thanks.”

 

 

Keith seemed to process that for a moment before responding “I’m glad you came today Lance. It’s good to see you here again. The Garrison-”

 

 

“Isn’t the same without me?” Lance supplied gently, smiling.

 

  
  
“It’s a hell of a lot more boring, for sure.”

 

 

“Knew it.” Lance leant his back against the side of the vehicle, feeling himself slip into the cocky bravado easily. It felt nostalgic.

 

 

Keith gave a wry smile, suddenly looking a little hesitant; a stark contrast to the easy confidence he’d been exuding throughout the day.

 

 

“What you said to Shiro, about going off-planet- did you mean it?”

 

 

Lance stared at him, a little confused at both the sudden change in topic and the oddly quiet way in which Keith spoke. “ Yeah, I think it’d be a nice change of pace, you know? Going somewhere new. I think I’m ready.” He added the last sentence quietly, almost a question itself.

 

 

The carrier bag he’d been given was stuffed with pamphlets and information booklets about all the coalition planets open for visitation. Most of them he’d been to at some point during their travels, but there were some he’d never visited. A few he’d never even heard of.

 

 

Lance brought his gaze back to Keith, who was looking at him like he was a puzzle to solve. 

 

 

“That’s great. I think you’ll really enjoy being out there again. You know, without the threat of war.”

 

 

_or the weight of commemorative mourning._ A fact they both chose to leave unspoken.

 

 

“Would you…Will you go by yourself?”

 

 

Keith was standing in a casual pose; hands in his pockets and wright rested slightly on one side, but his arms looked too rigid for it to be convincing. Something was up.

 

 

“I don’t know. I think I’d like to be away from my family for a while. Actually, I think they’d want me to be away from them. They’ve been pushing for me to take some time off from home duties.”

 

 

Keith nodded. He wanted to say something. It was obvious, but apparently too difficult for him. Lance decided to give him a push. Keith had given him more than a few, after all.

 

 

“Something on your mind, buddy?”

 

 

Keith looked at him like he’d just been caught pocketing candy from a corner store. “Nothing. Just thinking. About planets. Ones that you might like.”

 

 

Lance smiled. It was good to know there was still a little bit of classic Keith social ineptitude buried under the layers of graces he’d built up. The man's lies were still about as subtle as a stab wound.

 

 

“I’ll let you know when I narrow down my decisions. You can help me decide on a winner,” Lance fiddled with the adjustment of his wing mirror casually “unless you _do_ have any recommendations for me?”

 

 

Keith opened his mouth to respond, eyes bright. Then he shut it. A small group of cadets walked by them, giggling amongst each other as they returned to their barracks.

 

 

“Not at the moment. I’ll have to think about it some more.”

 

 

“Okey dokey,” Lance released the mirror, catching a glimpse of the ever so slight disappointment gracing his own features “Guess I’ll talk to you soon, then?”

 

 

Keith rocked on his feet “Yeah. Let me know if you have any questions. Or if you just want to talk or meet up or something.”

 

 

“Will do.”

 

 

Lance decided he really wanted a goodbye hug and closed the gap between them. It was hardly the first time they had parted with a hug, but Keith clearly wasn’t expecting it. It took him a moment to un-pocket his hands and wrap them in turn around him. Lance unwound himself after giving him a slight squeeze.

 

 

“Drive safe, Lance.”

 

 

“I always do. It’s you and your deathtrap I’m worried about.”

 

 

Keith came back to his sense at the prospect of a squabble. He gestured with both hands to himself in a disbelieving action “Greatest pilot of my generation? Ex-Black paladin?”

 

 

Keith’s voiced rose in pitch with indignation and Lance held back a snort as he climbed into the driver’s seat “And a jackass with no sense of self-preservation. I bet that speeder of yours isn’t even insured.”

 

 

“They don’t cover custom enhancements.”

 

 

The engine rumbled soothingly beneath Lance after he turned the ignition “Keith Kogane, If any insurance company knew you as well as I did, you wouldn’t even have dental cover. Not on Earth, at least.”

 

 

Keith grinned at him and tapped the roof, just about his window. “Bye Lance. Tell Lea I said hi.”

 

 

“See ‘ya mullet. Enjoy whatever it is you actually do here.”

 

 

Keith raised a lazy hand in response, walking off across the asphalt towards the Garrison.

 

 

Lance watched him leave.

 

 

It was getting more unpleasant to do each time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Keith took a deep breathe in through his nose, resisting the urge to groan.

 

 

God, what was _wrong_ with him? 

 

 

Lance had basically handed him an opportunity to ask him to the ceremony on a silver platter, and he’d _lost his nerve_.

 

 

Keith didn’t ‘lose his nerve’. It just wasn’t something that he allowed to happen.

 

 

And yet he’d stood there like a dumbstruck idiot and then baled. Shiro was right. He was acting like a moron. This really shouldn’t be hard, and yet he was tripping at every non-existent hurdle.

 

 

His mind wandered to the booklet in his satchel. ‘ _Daibazaal: a legacy rebuilt’._ Copies of it lay in the library publication room; freshly printed and not yet put out amongst the archives. he’d been asked to proofread it himself for language consistency.

 

 

He hadn’t been able to will himself to give it to Lance and now it stewed at his side, taunting him.

 

 

He approached his speeder, running a hand down his face as if it could wipe off the frustration. Riding always cleared his head, and he was thankful that he was free to return home, so he could take a long, long detour through the desert to do so.

 

 

As he launched out of the parking bay, he immediately felt his spirits life with the rush of air at his temples. The purr of the propulsion engine slowly creeping into a happy car as he accelerated.

 

 

Today had been a good day. A step forward. He may not have asked yet, but it didn’t matter. He’d get his chance.

 

 

He’d made sure of it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith’s phone buzzed against the wood of his dresser. Hey lay down his book and picked it up, shuffling more upright in his bed.

 

 

He checked the name on the screen and accepted the call.

 

 

“Hey, Colleen, what’s up?”

 

 

“Sorry to bother you Keith, I just needed to ask if you noticed any missing parts from the delivery package you loaded up with Pidge earlier.”

 

 

“Not as far as I know.”

 

 

“Ok, just wanted to check. Mrs McLain called to say they were missing a nutrient additive capsule piece. The one marked in red. It mustn’t have been packaged with the other parts.”

 

 

“So they need a replacement?” 

 

 

“Yeah. I’ll have one delivered to them tomorrow.”

 

 

“I can do it.”

 

 

There was a pause at the other end “Are you sure? I can have one of the delivery crew take it…”

 

 

“It’s no problem. It’s a nice ride out on a speeder."

 

 

“Thanks, Keith. I appreciate it.”

 

 

“No problem Colleen. I’ll pick it up from your lab tomorrow.”

 

 

“Ok. Just let yourself in. You know the storeroom code, right?”

 

 

“Yeah. It’s all good.”

 

 

“Goodnight Keith.”

 

 

“Night.”

 

 

Keith hit the end call button and lay his phone on his dresser.

 

 

Next to it lay a red-labelled nutrient additive capsule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is sneaky.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed chapter 3!


	4. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith visits Lance.

At 4:53 AM, Keith’s phone trilled with the sound of an off-planet direct transmission call.

 

 

There were exactly three people beyond this planet who would have the means or gall call him at this time while he was on his Earth alternation, and he was pretty sure he knew which of those three it was.

 

 

Probably not his mother, as she was more considerate with time zones. Kolivan was also unlikely, as he was on a short term ambassador’s trip for the next few days. Which meant that it was…

  
  
  
Keith flipped the phone to glare at the name on the screen. Anrei.

 

 

He gave a long-suffering sigh, taming his bedhead and sitting up to a more appropriate angle as the device buzzed impatiently. After blinking away the bleariness in his vision he opened the video feed.

 

 

“Good morning Keith!” 

 

 

Oh, so he _was_ aware of timezones. He just didn’t care.

 

 

“Is it really necessary to call me right now?” he drawled in a sloppy bastardisation of old-galran. The man couldn’t expect him to have perfect dictation in his current state.

 

 

“Absolutely. I must remind you that you now only have-”

 

 

“four quintants to pick a guest. I know Anrei, because yesterday it was five quintants. I did the maths.”

 

 

“Clever lad. I’d imagine intellect like would attract a great many potential candidates. A shame you can’t seem to choose one.”

 

 

“I’m asking someone today. Get off my case.”

 

 

Anrei beamed at him. The blinding white of his teeth far too intense in the dim light of his room “Excellent! Bring them as soon as possible. Ceremonial wear takes time to be fitted, as I’m sure you know.”

 

 

Keith was indeed well aware of the fact. He still had the needle-pricks to prove it.

 

 

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

 

 

“Actually, while I have you, can you tell me what kind of floral arrangements Krolia is most partial to? I’m think-”

 

 

Keith ended the call.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hunk, I appreciate the offer, but nobody in my family is going to eat a parasite you found in a space-rhino’s auxiliary stomach. I don’t care how ‘delectably roasted’ it is.”

 

 

Lance deposited his peeled potato into the bowl at his side, brushing the scraps into a pile that he would later feed to the cows. His tablet screen was set up in front of him, displaying Hunk’s excited face.

 

 

“Come on! Don’t you trust me by now? I never gave any of you guys food poisoning. That’s more than can be said for some of those rest stop diners you visited while we were in space.”

 

 

“That was one time. And it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that it’s gross. Big difference.”

 

 

“You’re no fun.”

 

 

“Hey, I’m plenty fun. I’m cooking these potatoes with _saffron_.”

 

 

Hunk humoured him “Ooh, fancy. what’s the occasion?”

 

 

“Sometimes a guy just wants to feel special.” He hissed a short curse when the peeler nicked his thumb.

 

 

“C’mon Lance. You call me for the first time in a month, more chipper than I’ve seen you for ages, and you want me to believe something isn’t up? Spill.”

 

 

“No, really Hunk there’s nothing going on. It’s just been a good week and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

 

  
“Uh huh. Nothing to do with your Garrison visit?”

  

 

Damn Pidge and her rapid snitching. That had been _yesterday_. “I mean yeah, it was fun. I had a good time.”

 

 

“Heard Keith gave you the tour.”

 

 

“Yeah, well, I guess he couldn’t spend all day slacking.”

 

 

“Not when his bestest buddy Lance was in town. Pidge said you guys were inseparable. What did I miss?”

 

 

“Nothing. He was just helping me not to get lost. That place is ridiculous now. It has _five_ more floors than last year. That’s insane!” 

 

 

“Don’t change the subject.”

 

  

“There is no ‘subject’ andI’ll change it however I see fit.”

 

  

“Did you guys bond on Altea or something? What’s the deal?”

 

 

The peeler dug a little too deep into the starchy flesh of the vegetable “Can we go back to Shay’s venture into edible bioluminescent mould frosting now?”

 

  

“Come _on Lance._ I want to hear about your blossoming friendship with-”

 

  

The remainder of Hunk’s sentence was drowned out by a loud squawking honk coming from outside, followed shortly by a familiar squeal.

 

 

“What was that?” Hunk asked, peering into his camera in an attempt to spot the cause.

 

 

“The family goose trying to usurp my niece’s dominance again,” Lance placed the peeler and vegetable down on the kitchen counter, thankful for the timely distraction “better go sort that out. Call you back later Hunk, tell Shay I said hi!”

 

 

“You’re not getting out of this lance, I want answers!”

 

 

Lance ended the call on a vision of Hunk raising an accusing finger at him. He brushed his his hands on his shirt, ridding himself of the chalky starch that had accumulated on them, as he walked out into the yard where Nadia was being cornered by A grumpy looking bird that nearly equalled her height.

 

 

“All right Stumpy, that’s enough,”Lance strode over to the goose, waving his arms broadly to deter him “Go ruin someone else day.” 

 

 

The goose tottered away, honking indignantly to himself. Lance was a little too tall to bully into giving him food, and therefore not worth the effort. Nadia looked up at her uncle from where she had fallen defensively on the grass.

 

  

“I hate him! Why do we even keep geese?”

 

 

Lance would tell her the truth, but he knew that the idea of even Stumpy being served up on someone’s plate would upset her.

 

 

“they’re good guard dogs.”

 

  

“Then why don’t we just get a dog?” 

 

 

“Because they’d hassle the geese.”

 

  

Nadia scowled at him with the adorable vehemence that only an eight-year-old could muster. Lance laughed and offered her a hand, pulling her up to standing position.

 

 

“If you think geese are bad, you should have seen the opireon herds they farmed on leynalu. Those things had five sets of jaws and they knew how to use them. Pidge nearly lost her leg when she tried to pet one.”

 

 

Nadia’s eyes widened, no doubt seeing a gruesome horror attempting to tear into the littlest paladin.

 

 

Lance adored watching her face light up with awe and disbelief when he told stories from his time with Voltron. It made him realise why Coran loved anecdotes so much. The wonder he could inspire, with what for him was a simple recount, was intoxicating.

 

  

“I saved her of course. After that, dealing with Stumpy is easy-peasy.”

 

  

“Did you fight it off?”

 

 

“No, I just distracted it with some food. I don’t think the farmer’s would have been too happy with me punching their livestock. Imagine if someone came along and started wrestling with Kalternecker. Not a good look.”

 

 

Nadia giggled “Do you think there’s any more cows in space?”

 

 

“I’m sure there’s a few floating around. Aliens seem to love them.” 

 

 

“Lance! The delivery person is coming!”

  

 

Sylvio tore around the side-yard’s fence; dipping into view before immediately running back to wherever he was keeping a lookout from. Nadia was rushing past to follow her brother before Lance could even take a step toward the front drive.

 

  

They were early. He didn’t think he’d get the nutrient capsule before midday. It was barely nine AM. They really didn’t mess around at that place.

  

 

He heard the delivery truck before he saw it. 

 

 

Though, something seemed off about the sound. 

 

  

It was an unusually _loud_ delivery truck.

 

 

…With a galran fighter propulsion engine

 

 

 

_Oh, You’ve gotta be kidding me…_

 

 

 

“Lance come see this truck, it’s awesome!” Sylvio's voice was already hard to hear over the oncoming mechanical alien roar. He approached the front lawn, wading against a flock of panicked chickens trying to escape the unknown menace.

 

 

Lance walked up behind his niece and nephew. “That’s not a delivery truck, Sylvio's.”

 

 

Keith’s speeder had some definite alterations from last time he saw it. It was apparent even from a distance. The red of the body was darker and more subdued, accented by black trimmings instead of white. Its angles were more streamlined, and its cumbersome pulse rings were replaced with a thinner, more gracile variant that was less conspicuous but undoubtedly far more powerful.

 

  

The machine drew very close very fast, and before Lance knew it, He and his excitable kin were being dusted with a fine layer of sand as Keith reared to a stop a few metres away from them. The sound of clucking chickens picked up as the engine purred to a stop, leaving the speeder suspended at a low resting hover. Keith dismounted, boots hitting the gravel path with crunch. In one hand he claspedGarrison-branded parcel.

 

 

There were two versions of Keith at his apex coolness. One was when he was on the battlefield, brandishing an enchanted alien blade. The other was when he was stepping off his custom speeder; hair windswept and a spark of unbridled joy fuelled by adrenalin in his eyes.

 

 

And the tight-fit cotton shirt and heavy bomber jacket didn’t look half bad on him, either, but he didn’t want to give the man too much credit. He schooled his features to look casually unimpressed.

 

 

 “Demoted to delivery boy, Keith? I knew it was only a matter of time.”

 

 

 “Beats sitting in a conference. Morning Sylvio. Nadia.”

 

 

 The kids in question returned the greeting distractedly; transfixed by the sleek machine the hovered before them with the intimidating intrigue of a sleeping predator.

 

 

 Keith walked over and offered Lance the package “I believe you’re missing this.”

 

 

 Lance took it “Yeah. Guess _someone_ didn’t pack the kit properly.”

 

 

 “Don’t look at me, that was Pidge’s job,” He raised his hands defensively, flashing the worn leather palms of his fingerless gloves “I’m just the delivery guy.”

 

 

 “Uh huh.” Such a careless mistake didn’t really seem very ‘Pidge’ in Lance’s opinion, but he’d let it lie. He didn’t really mind Keith being here, after all.

 

 

 “So, you have to go back now or..?”

 

 

 “I don’t have to, no.”

 

 

 “Wanna come in?” 

 

 

 “Sounds great. Thanks.”

 

 

 “Keith, can we go for a ride on your speeder?” Sylvio was practically vibrating with excitement. Nadia was at the nose of the craft, hand placed feather-light against the metal; her look of reverence reflected blotchily in the immaculately surface.

 

 

Lance answered in Keith’s place, giving his nephew a hard look “Absolutely not, that thing is an abomination.”

 

 

“But it’s so cool!”

 

 

“Sorry, guys. I’m siding with Lance on this one. My speeder is _not_ an abomination-” he gave Lance a pointed look “but It’s a little too intense for a beginner, even as a passenger.”

 

 

Sylvio and Nadia groaned in defeat. Lance felt relief in the fact that Keith was aware enough to draw the line at child endangerment.

 

 

“Why don’t you guys go tell Grandma that Keith’s here, she’s probably wondering what all the noise was. I think she’s in the back paddock.”

 

 

The two scrambled off, set on their new goal. Lance looked over the vehicle once again, noticing a familiar, albeit re-worked, design on its side; an off-white ’01’.

 

 

“I’m glad you kept the racing number. It’s a nice touch.”

 

 

“sentiment got the better of me.” he looked at Lance “It happens sometimes.”

 

 

Lance felt a strange warmth creep up the back of his neck.

 

 

“Let’s go inside. My mum’ll kill me if I don’t offer you a drink.”  


 

* * *

 

 

“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way, Keith. All this trouble for a little capsule…”

 

 

“It’s no problem, really,” Keith sipped on the freshly squeezed orange juice Lance had supplied him moments before his mother had bustled into the kitchen to greet him “I enjoyed the ride, and it’s nice to finally see your home. Lance is always talking about it.”

 

 

Keith’s voice had taken on that ‘perfect house guest’ timbre again. He was so good at it that his mother didn’t even seem phased about the giant bad-news number that was his speeder. He had her wrapped around his little finger. Lance was pretty sure he was laying it on tack just to annoy him at this point.

 

 

“We don’t have the fanciest agricultural approaches in the region, but we do alright. The Garrison aid service really helped us out with rigging the reticulation. It’s small repayment, but I’m glad we can help them with this trial.”

 

 

“Don’t worry, mum. Colleen was over the moon about it. They appreciate it just fine.”

 

 

 “That’s good to know. Veronica always complains about the Garrison, but I know that she has a lot of respect for what they do. She just likes to play it cool, like somebody else I know.” She ruffled Lance’s hair as she walked past to put his peeled potatoes in the fridge. Her son’s nose scrunched in agitation.

 

 

 “They’re lucky to have Veronica. She keeps everyone in line.”

 

 

 “Except you, apparently,” Lance said under his breath when his mother disappeared into the kitchen.

 

 

 Keith shrugged “She’s only my commander for fifty percent of my work life.”

 

 

 His mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen “Speaking of family, Keith; how’s your mother doing?”

 

 

 Keith looked momentarily confused. Few people asked about Krolia. She was a very private person, and visited Earth only to spend time with her son and attend important Garrison conferences and briefings.

 

 

“She’s well. Mostly keeping busy with reconstruction on Daibazaal and the odd mission against a loyalist stronghold.”

 

 

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Lance suppressed a snort at his mother’s airy tone that trailed from the other room. She barely comprehended the ins and outs of what he and the other paladin’s had been involved in during the war, let alone Keith’s warrior alien mother. 

 

 

“Is your Mum really purple?” Nadia, who had been chattering with her brother between mouthfuls of oat cookies, piped up from the other end of the table.

 

  
  
“Yeah. Very purple.”

 

 

“Why aren’t you purple?”

 

 

Keith looked intentionally thoughtful “I don’t know.”

 

 

“Nadia! Remember your manners, please.” his mother strode into the room again, giving her guest an apologetic look before turning to her granddaughter 

 

 

“Purple is a nice colour!” She looked excitedly at Keith “There’s a galra in my class at school and she has the prettiest fur! It’s so soft and looks like grape candy.”

 

 

“ A shame you didn’t pick up that trait Keith. Your fur is a mess.”

 

 

His mother just rolled her eyes. The ‘manners’ ship had long since sailed in his case and chasing it was too much of an effort when she was watching her two grandkids for the day. She continued the conversation as if it had not been interrupted.

 

 

“You should invite her around one day, Keith. When she’s not too busy. We’d love to meet her officially.”

 

 

Keith’s eyes darted to Lance’s and they had a mutual moment basking in how utterly surreal the concept was.

 

 

“Sure, I think she’d like that. She’s, uh, never been to a farm. On Earth at least. I think she’d find it interesting.”

 

 

She hummed in approval as she attempted to brush away some crumbs that had somehow found their way onto his nephew’s hair. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a full-blooded galra in our home before. Just you and that young Acxa friend of Veronica’s. You work with her, don’t you? She seems very intense. I can see why my daughter gets along with her so well.”

 

 

Lance’s ears pricked at the new information and he looked at Keith. He knew Veronica and Acxa kept in contact, but he’d never gotten any solid dirt on the nature of their relationship.

 

 

“Yeah, Acxa is a lot nicer once you get to know her. She’s just very focused. She and Veronica are pretty close. When I’m on Blade missions Acxa always asks about her, and when I’m at the Garrison Veronica’s the same.”

 

 

“Aww, how sweet. Sounds like mutual pining across the stars.”

 

 

Keith stirred his drink with his straw absently, ignoring the remark with a smile on his face “I’m just happy that Acxa’s opening up to people. Her social circle was closed off for so long and She’s really made an effort. It helps that Veronica has been very patient with her.”

 

 

 

Something about his tone inhibited Lance’s desire to probe for more gossip. He felt the warmth of his mother’s hand landing on his shoulder as she stood behind his seated form.

 

 

 

“Sometimes patience is the kindest thing you can give someone. Especially if they’ve been through hardships. I’m proud that she’s helping her adjust to a new life. She is an incredible young woman.”

 

 

 

From his angle, Lance couldn’t see her expression, but the look Keith was giving her was strangely knowing. He immediately felt out of the loop.

 

  
“Mum, I’m _right here_.”

 

 

“I’m proud of you too, Lance. You are an incredible young man.” She laughed and fluffed his hair again _,_ making him feel even more like a child. He mumbled and batted her away half-heartedly.

  

 

“When you and Keith are finished, why don’t you take him on a tour of the farm? It’s a lovely day out. He can join us for lunch afterwards, if he likes,” she threw her most welcoming smile at the ex black paladin “How about it Keith?”

 

 

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not intruding on anything…”

 

 

“Absolutely not! It’s just us five here today, so it’ll be a small thing. We’d love your company.”

 

 

“Do it Keith. We’re having pie.” Lance sing-songed at him

 

  

Keith conceded all too easily.

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

“Keith, what in the name of all that is sacred is than noise?”

 

 

“It’s pigs, mum. Baby ones.”

 

 

His mother had chosen a particularly inopportune time to call. Lance was being marauded by several recently-weaned piglets, who were squealing and grunting as he entered their enclosure with a bucket of vegetable peels.

 

 

“They sound distressed.”

 

 

“They’re just hungry. It’s feeding time.”

 

 

“Am I right in assuming you are not at the Garrison?” Her standard stoic expression softened with mirth “I don’t recall them having an animal husbandry department.”

 

 

“I’m at Lance’s house. I took the day off to make a delivery here.”

 

 

“You visited to make a delivery, and yet you are now feeding livestock with him. Are you sure there isn’t another reason for your visit?”

 

 

“Mum…”

 

  

“Stop stalling Keith. Ask the boy.”

 

 

“I. Will.” Keith gritted out “and I’m not stalling. I’m just waiting for the opportune moment.”

 

 

“Opportune moments don’t always happen. Make your own.”

 

 

“I’ve already had this talk today. By the way, did Anrei give you that ‘floral arrangement’?”

 

  

A little smile tweaked on her face “Don’t change the subject. This is about you. I already have my attending guest.”

 

 

“You stole mine!” The indignant pitch in Keith’s voice was thankfully lost in the squealing animals in front of him.

 

  

“I did not _steal_ him. I made my opportune moment and struck. You must cope with the consequences. So go ahead and cope.” Her gaze became sympathetic “I know this might be hard for you, but I’ve seen you conquer far more frightening things; and for outcomes you’ve desired far less.”

 

  

Keith felt his cheeks warm and instinctively glanced up at the other man, as if he could possibly have heard his mother’s comment “Is that honestly why you called me?”

 

 

“You will be returning to Daibazaal soon. I wanted to make sure you were making the most of your remaining time on the earth alternation.”  


 

 

“I am. I’ve been spending the day with Lance’s family. They like me.” Keith couldn’t help the small grin crossing his features 

 

 

“In galran culture, family approval bodes well for a healthy future relationship. Is this the same with humans?”

 

 

“Oh my god, can you _please_ not talk like that? now’s not a good time-”

 

 

“Who’re you talking to Keith? Your weird space friend?”

 

 

Keith flinched as Lance waltzed up to the railing he was leaning on; piglet grunting merrily in his arms.

 

  

“Is that how you refer to me on Earth?” His mother’s voice was a sarcastic drawl. Something she definitely picked up from him.

 

 

Lance winced, recognising who it was. He recovered quickly. “Hi Krolia! Haven’t heard from you in ages. How are you?”

 

 

 She motioned for Keith to tilt the screen to get him in view. She didn’t trust voices without a face. Old paranoia died hard. “Hello, Lance. I am well, thank you for asking. You seem healthy.”

 

 

 Lace smiled hugely, dirt staining his over shirt where the piglet was squirming against him “Fit as a fiddle!”

 

 

“Excellent. I was just calling Keith to inform him of some upcoming matters for when he returns. I’m sorry to have interrupted your…activities.”

 

 

“No problem! Keith and I are just doing the feeding rounds.”

 

 

She seemed at a loss with where to take this information. “Well, good luck. I best be going now. I hope to see you again in the near future.” Krolia stared straight at Keith through the screen as she spoke.

 

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure!” 

 

 

“Have a nice day, Keith. Lance.” With that, the transmission ended.

 

  

“Dude, you gotta warn me when she calls. I need to prepare.” Lance placed the piglet back on the pen floor and it trotted off happily. “Now she probably thinks I’m some kind of mad pig wrestler or something.”

 

 

“It was a surprise call, and she doesn’t think that. She likes you.”

 

 

“Yeah, sure, I could tell by the steely contempt in her gaze.”

 

 

“That’s just her face. You used to say the same thing about me.”

 

 

Lance nodded solemnly “ I guess you’ve learned to school yours better. You couldn’t intimidate me if you tried, now. “

 

  

“Well I don’t need to constantly command the respect of thousands of galra citizens.”

 

  

“Nah. You’ve gone soft.”

 

 

Keith couldn't quite bite back the soft laugh that left him. “Is that a bad thing?”

  

 

Lance crossed his arms thoughtfully “Well, I don’t think old school Keith would be caught dead petting baby pigs, so in that regard I think it’s a definite plus.”

 

 

Keith stuffed his phone into his satchel and deposited it by the entry gate. “Just let me into the pen, Lance”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow, The McLain collective had roped him into staying for dinner as well.

 

 

It was fortunate because it gave Keith more time to extend Lance the invitation. It was _un_ fortunate because it gave him far more time to agonise over doing so. All he could think about was every missed opportunity that passed him by. They’d been alone together for the vast majority of the day and still, Keith had tip-toed around every golden opportunity to speak to him frankly.

 

 

The animal feeding rounds, the lazy walk through the paddocks, climbing onto the roof of the storage sheds and talking for hours that felt like minutes. He thought the tour of the flower garden would have been a perfect, no tension setup. That was until he saw the vibrant patches of juniberry flowers coating the earth. Then it seemed far, far from perfect.

 

  
And now Keith was sitting at the dining table with exactly six McLains, situated next to Lance, in front of Lance’s fancy saffron potatoes and fielding questions about the galra home planet flung at him by various table goers. Lucy, Marco’s wife, had somehow got onto the topic of Galra pregnancies.

 

  

“So galra women have their children at home?”

  

 

“Unless something goes wrong, yeah. Birth complications are actually really rare. Their labours and recovery times are insanely short, too. Often completely unassisted.”

 

 

She placed a hand on her swollen belly and sighed “I’m jealous.”

 

 

“My mum said that the day I was born, dad got back from work I was already bathed, clothed and fed. He walked in and she was just eating a can of beans in front of the TV with me sleeping in her free arm.”

  

 

“No way!”

 

  

Keith nodded “That was his reaction as well.”

 

 

“So you were born on Earth, but you are considered a citizen of Daibazaal through your mother?”

 

 

 “That, and I’m a paladin. I’m pretty sure we’re all honorary citizens by default, courtesy of Kolivan and my mother’s insistence.”

 

 

“ _I’m_ an honorary citizen of Daibazaal?”Lance looked up from his plate, eyes wide and cheeks stuffed with food. He forced himself to swallow before finishing his thought.“How come no one told me?”

 

 

Keith bit back a smile at the awe in Lance’s tone “Don’t take it personally, the political situation there is still very shaky. Your feelings just weren’t a priority.”

 

 

“Do I get a passport or something?”

 

 

“Do you want one?”

 

 

 “Duh.” Lance had asked to see his on three separate occasions throughout the day.

 

 

 “I’ll see what I can do next time I’m there.”

  

 

Lance beamed at him, clearly relishing the idea of being able to flash fancy extra-terrestrial ID from a planet that was still very unknown and off-radar for most.

 

 

 

“So you’re returning this Friday, Keith?” Lea asked from across the table.

 

 

“Yeah. Straight into Blade work again next week.” It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie. It was the closest thing to the truth he was going to say in front of Lance at his family dining table, anyway.

 

 

 “Make it a quick visit. Lance will miss you while you’re gone.”

 

 

“Shut it, Marco.” There was surprisingly little heat behind Lance’s response. Keith glanced up from his plate, intrigued.

 

 

“Well, he’s welcome to call me as often as he likes.”

 

 

Lance looked up at him; fork hovering over a small pile of green beans on his plate. His face was strangely guarded “Wouldn’t your Blade buddies find that pretty lame?.”

 

 

“They understand the need to maintain relationships. They can deteriorate all too easily when you work the way we do.”

 

 

“You do realise you’re giving me an invitation to annoy you 24/7 while you’re off-planet, right?”

 

 

Lance said it as if it was the worst thing he could imagine. Like his smile wouldn’t be the most warming thing to see on his tablet screen as he sat in the cold cargo hold of some rebel ship, headed to war-torn planet galaxies away from anywhere he called home. 

 

 

“That’s what I’m counting on.” Keith made sure his tone that carried none of the weight of its conviction. It was airy and casual as he reached for the pepper grinder to his left.

 

  

“Aww…”

 

 

“ _Shut it_ , Marco.” 

 

 

Oh, there was some more force behind it that time. Keith felt something swell in his chest, a giddiness ignited by Lance’s discomfort.

 

 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. Maybe Shiro was right, and Lance honestly wanted an opportunity to just be _out_ there again.

 

  

And he could be the one to give him that opportunity.

 

  

And despite his best efforts to suppress it, there was a tiny, hopeful voice in the back of his head whispering that Lance might just want to experience that with him.

 

 

As the topics of conversation drifted about him, Keith felt his mind settle and a quiet peace overcame him.

 

 

Later, when he and Lance had been shooed out of kitchen cleaning duty and Keith had said his goodbyes and good nights to them all, he 

 

 

“Lance, I want to ask you something.”

 

 

The man looked at him oddly, trying to decipher the amiable tone he was using. “Ok. Shoot.”

 

 

“Not in here.” He clapped him on the shoulder and walked out the front door. Lance followed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Wanted to show off your speeder again, huh?” The unrest in Lance’s voice was clear in the quiet ambience of the night air. Chilled and laced with the chirping of crickets. “How many times do I have to say that it’s cool?”

 

 

Keith laughed, coming to a stop beside the main console. “As many times as you can bear. But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”

 

  

Lance took that as a cue to rest his weight against the metal frame, as Keith had done. “Ok, then what’s the occasion?”

 

  

“An invitation.”

 

  

Lance quirked an eyebrow “to?”

 

  

Keith smiled, holding his gaze “My honouring ceremony. On Daibazaal.”

 

 

Lance looked at him for a long while, clearly trying to unpack what he’d just heard. Keith waited patiently.

 

 

“What’s an honouring ceremony?” 

 

 

Ok, A good start. Keith hadn’t really been expecting an immediate ‘yes’.

 

 

“In my case, it’s an event to celebrate my ‘services to the rebuilding of Daibazaal’. But it’s also a promotion. They’re making me a Marmoran leader and presenting me with my own blade.”

 

 

Lance was gaping at him “No way, man! That’s _awesome._ You mean you get to wear the cool sash thing _and_ you get a brand new custom magic blade?”

 

  

The thrill of the scenario had dulled on Keith, it having been a pain in his ass to plan for nearly a month, but Lance’s excitement was infectious and he found his own face being split with a dumb grin.

 

 

 “Yup. I don’t really know why they want to promote me, but apparently, a large number of influential galra were adamant about it, so here we are.”

 

 

“I mean, you _did_ save the universe.”

 

 

“ _We_ saved the universe.”

 

 

Lance laughed, and Keith could barely make out the darkening shade on his cheeks in the moonlight. 

 

 

“I guess. So, you want me to come?”

 

 

“I do.”

 

  

“Why?” The question was soft. His features unreadable.

 

 

 The safe option was obvious. ‘Because you’re my friend’. He didn’t need more explanation. Lance could assume he just needed to fill a quota. He could brush it off as a friendly question, brought on by an annoying patron that kept calling him at ungodly hours to make sure he got his shit together.

 

 

But Keith was tired of playing it safe.

 

  

“Because I want you to be there with me.”

 

  

He could feel his face heating as he watched Lance digest what he had said. He wondered if he knew how beautiful he looked when he smiled. When he looked so unburdened and full of life, fuelled by the promise of something new. 

 

 

 “Ok. I’ll go. I’d love to go.”

 

 

 Keith felt his stomach flip at the certainty in his tone. It was something he hadn’t heard since Lance had been at the console of Red, driven to burn brighter than any star could dream. Fighting by his side and anchoring him to a greater existence.

 

 

A lump formed in his throat; something joyous and loud that he swallowed down in favour of giving him an easy smile. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the book that had been burning at the back of his mind all day, offering it to lance “in that case, this is for you.”

 

 

“ _A legacy rebuilt_ , huh?” Lance turned the book over in his hands, the crisp embossed image of the planet on the cover flashing.

 

 

“It’s actually pretty interesting. I’ve bookmarked the section about ceremonies associated with the Blades. You don’t have to read it, but I thought that-”

 

 

“I’ll read it. I was always curious about the type of stuff you guys get up to on that rock. So _secretive.”_ He absently flicked through the pages, lifting it close to his face “ooh, new book smell.”

 

 

“You’re the first person to own a copy of that. I technically stole it from the Garrison publishing department. It’s not due for limited release for two months, so don’t tell anybody you have it, e _specially_ Veronica.”

 

 

“Do you have some compulsion to do illegal things, Keith?” Lance drawled, eyes glued to the pages.

 

 

 “My mother comes from a long line of rebels and chronic gamblers and my father was a firefighter who raced in speeder derbies in his free time. Blame genetics.” 

 

 

 Lance looked up at him, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically.“God, you never stood a chance. I’m so sorry.”

  

 

“If you think I’m bad, wait until you meet my cousin.”

 

  

“You have a _cousin?_ There are _more_ Koganes?”

 

 

“Well, they’re not really ‘Koganes’, but I’ve been assured they are related to me, yes.” Keith quirked an eyebrow “is it really that surprising?” 

 

 

The vacant look on Lance’s face told him that he’d never even thought about the possibility of him having an extended family. Hell, his mother was the only blood family of his Lance knew about and she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with this information.

 

 

“Well, I look forward to meeting this monstrous cousin of yours at the ceremony. When is it by the way?”

 

 

Oh, right. The deadlines.

 

 

“How does planetary departure this Friday suit you?” Keith kept a wobbly smile on his face, preparing for the backlash.

 

 

Lance’s eyes widened, before narrowing in annoyance.

 

  

“three days, Keith? Really?”

 

 

Keith kept smiling. Lance sighed.

 

 

“You’re just lucky I’m not one to leave a guy hanging.”

 

 

“That’s the Lance I know.”

 

 

Lance rolled his eyes “Whatever. There better be good food there.”

 

  

Keith hugged him then, unable to resist the urge any longer. The other man stiffened for a moment, before relaxing and returning the gesture.

 

 

“Thank you, Lance. I know this is sudden but it means alot to me. Really.”

  

 

“No problem, man. I’ve always got your back, remember? On the battlefield or in some weird secret galra cult ceremony, you name the time and I’ll be there.” Keith was glad Lance couldn't see the sheer giddy joy on his face at that moment. It would have been mortifying.

 

 

Keith released him, laughing. “Ok, I’d better go. I’m pretty sure I missed like three conference attendances today but I can still fit in some paper reviews tonight.” He hoisted himself up on the speeder and in front of the sleek central console. “I’ll be in contact about details over the next few days. If Veronica asks, I was helping you guys set up your crop trial all day.”

 

 

 “Got it.” Lance threw him a double thumbs-up

 

 

Keith turned the ignition and the propulsion engine started rousing into deep growls. “Oh, Lance stand back, you’ve gotta see my newest upgrades.”

 

  

He watched Lance take a few wary steps back, before tapping an illuminated button on his console screen. Instantly, the speeder’s body was striped with bright neon blue and red highlights;burning brilliantly in the dark drive of the McLain ranch.

 

 

Over the rumbling, Keith could hear laughing in disbelief “Go home, show off! Before you spook the cows!”

 

 

Keith threw him a lazy salute and hauled his vehicle around, accelerating down the dirt path and back toward the Garrison, Lance’s laughter chiming in his head long after he’d left.

 

* * *

 

Lance closed the door behind him, dulling the distant sound of the speeder engine as he walked into the living room, where the other McLain adults sat, pretending not to have been talking about him while he was alone with Keith. He gave them all a winning smile.

 

 

“Hey all, I’m going on a trip.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of scenery coming next chapter. Been itching to write Lance back in space :D


	5. Daibazaal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in a while, Lance reconnects with space travel. Fortunately, Keith is there keep him grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh I am so sorry. Chronic illnesses are the worst :'). Thank you to anyone who is still following this story I swear I want to finish it but I have been crook as a dog for months now and the medical system process is SLOW.

 

 

“This one’s new. What’s it called?”

  


 

The galran customs officer dangled a bunch of pale vegetables in front of his face.

  


 

“Parsnip. They’re a vegetable that you put in soups and bakes.”

  


 

The man- Alka, who was apparently assigned as Keith’s personal border security attendant for his returns from Earth- turned the root around in his hands, giving a thoughtful hum before setting it aside in a tray for decontamination.

  


 

Lance watched dazedly as the two went through the perishables. There was something so extraordinary about seeing a smartly dressed seven-foot galra casually rifle through Keith’s souvenir suitcase while making small talk.

  


 

Not three hours ago he’d been in the Garrison interplanetary departure lounge, hugging his teary eyed mother and father and being sassed by Veronica. The shift in environment felt surreal, as interplanetary travel often did; warping and shuffling one’s perceptions of time and space. It had been a while since he’d experienced it, and it was taking his mind a while to catch up with him.

 

“And you, sir?”

  


 

Lance waited for someone to reply until realising the question was aimed at him “Oh! No, that’s everything in Keith’s bag.” He’d barely had the sense to pack his essential pyjamas, let alone a mound of Earth food.

  


 

“Alright, step this way please.” He gestured to a line on the floor marked with ‘stand here’ labels in the two-toed shape of galra feet. One they’d moved into position, he scanned over them with some kind of light ray. When he finished scanning over Lance, he paused, staring at his face in a very unsubtle manner.

  


 

“So it’s true, you do have Altean markings.” He said amiably as he placed the ray gun down and tagged their luggage with clearance marks. “I thought they’d be brighter. They look similar to the commemorative tattoos all the kids get around with now…”

  


 

Lance had seen a few such tattoos on Earth citizens. The trend started a few months after the war; many younger people chose to show their respects by getting stylised tattoos that mimicked Altean marks. He was a bit put off by them at first, but Coran had assured him that it was to be taken as a flattering gesture.

  


 

After all, They were clearly fake. Anybody could tell real Altean marks from a curvy stretch of pigment.

 

This guy was either incredibly astute or incredibly ignorant. Either way, Lance was a bit irked at being put under the spotlight about it.

  


 

“Yeah, they’re real. Guess I’m just not in a ‘glowy’ mood today.” He hoped that the laughter in his inflection masked any bitterness that may have seeped in. The officer wasn’t trying to hit a sore point, he just carried the blunt impartiality most galra had towards strangers.  


  


 

Keith seemed to pick up on his discomfort. “We’re both pretty drained. Going through all those new checkpoints was hell.”

  
  


“Increased security for the coming movement. We’re getting all types in from all over the place so we’re doubling down on visitor processing. Just be thankful you guys have good connections and a high profile, otherwise it would have taken a lot longer.”

  


 

The machine behind the galra chimed and Keith’s tray of freshly decontaminated foodstuffs slid out into view. “You guys are free to pass through to final processing,” He assisted Keith in re-packing the items into his case “weather’s nice today, rain due later in the evening. A few hundred Alfalfi arrived last week so, uh, be prepared to see them around.”

  


 

“Thanks Alka,” before zipping his case shut, Keith pulled out a preserve jar and threw it at the man, who caught it with the effortless agility innate to his kind. Lance recognised it as a brand of honey sold a few stalls down from his family’s market stall “don’t eat it all in three days this time.It’ should last the movement.”

  


 

The officer grinned, evaluating the foreign language symbols on the label “It’s a shame our interplanetary trade system is still so tight. My kids love this stuff.” He placed it amongst the clutter of trinkets on his review desk “Welcome back, Keith. All the best with your ceremony. I look forward to seeing your fancy new blade at security checks from now on.”  


 

 

The galra turned a mirthful eye to Lance “And sir-”

  


 

“Just ‘Lance’ is fine.”

  


 

“Welcome to Daibazaal Lance. I hope you enjoy your stay, and the festivities throughout.”

  


 

“Thanks, I’m looking forward to it.” Lance gave him a wave before following Keith out of the department, dragging his absurdly light suitcase behind him. He’d been told not to pack much, as nearly everything would be provided for him. All he had was himself, several sets of outfits and a few of the more esoteric skin products he’d had on Earth.  


  


 

He felt lighter. Liberated. Like back when they were all together travelling by lion after the Castleship’s destruction, escaping the war zone they’d left behind. But now he wasn’t being hounded by the looming threat of the empire, or worried about when and how they would get their next meal. He was just…present.

  


 

The serenity of the moment was overtaken by awe when he was led into the main reception area of the port facility. He had seen aerial images of the structure printed within the book Keith had given him, but he hadn’t really appreciated the scale until this moment.

  


 

It made the Garrison’s look miniscule.

  


 

It was easily three times the size in this area alone. The space was expansive both horizontally and vertically; levels stacked dizzyingly high around the central hollow of the floor they were on. The colour scheme wasn’t the dark purples and silvers of the Empire, but deep, steely blues mixed with creams: different enough to detach itself from the grisly history, but dark enough not to irritate the sensitive eyes of the galra inhabitants. Likewise, the skylights above were tinted, filtering in the gentle morning sunlight of the planet.

  


The blanket of voices and different tongues melded into the air into an unintelligible slurry prickled with sharp consonants and the odd low growl characteristic of old Galran. Around him galra of every shape and size bustled, and he was never more grateful for the inherent way they seemed to respect personal space and weave expertly around unwanted bodily contact.

  


  


Lance tried not to get too distracted from following Keith. Here he felt five again; afraid of letting his guide out of sight lest he genuinely get lost in the crown filled with strangers.

 

  


When they reached the final reception gate, a stern looking galra took Keith’s passport, flashed a load of scans over it, and asked some vague questions. Keith handed them a dark envelope, which they opened and scanned over the contents of critically. A moment later, they turned their attention to Lance.

  


“Lance McLain, you are here as his guest?”

  


“Yeah.”

  


They nodded and turned to their computer setup, tapping away at it rapidly. a few minutes later they pulled something from their synthesising printer and handed it to him.

  


“A temporary passport. Keep it on you at all times. Welcome to Daibazaal.”

  


Lance took the blank metallic disc gingerly and the officer waved them through.

  


“It’s got all your ID on it and it’ll expire when you leave back through the gates.” Keith said, hearing the unasked question.

 

“They’re real sticklers for security here, huh?”

  


  


“It’s a hectic time. This planet’s people have been reluctant to open up tourism floodgates as of yet, but even so it’s not usually this bad.”

  


  


“Uh huh.” Daibazaal was still a very off-limits planet for a lot of trade and almost all forms of commercial tourism. They only allowed services for refugee intake and infrastructure-related off-planet trade. Anything aside from that just trickled through a mill of reporters and conference here-say.

  


  


According to Keith’s book, it was due to rapid construction efforts combined with difficult social integration of differing galra factions and customs. But between the lines, he could tell there was still a wariness there. There was no shortage of people who hated the galra to the core, Just as there was no shortage of innocent, non-empire-affiliated galra living here to take the brunt of that hatred.

  


  


They had to tread carefully, and very slowly.

  


  


Lance was beginning to see more and more how big a deal it was that he was here. Out of the paladins, Shiro was the only one aside from Keith that had been invited to visit this planet and that was solely on the basis that he had served as Keith’s guardian and mentor. Krolia had a lot to do with that, he imagined.

  


  


It took them a solid few minutes of weaving across the floor’s expanse to actually reach the exit. As the tinted door slid open, they were greeted by the subdued Daibazaal sun and, much to Lance’s surprise, an extremely well-manicured pickup bay.

  


  


a bright array of plant life decorated the outer walls; vines and trees with elegantly tapering leaves situated in alternating patterns across the outer walls of the building. Amongst them were various statues carved from some kind of pale, pearly stone of bizarre animalistic figures posed with esoteric gestures and facial ticks. Nearly all of them had colourful tidbits resting in their gesturing hands and at their base. some had incense burners; explaining the occasional whiff of heavy spice on the air.

  


He really didn’t think his first impression of the planet Daibazaal would be ‘beautiful’. Not in the same way the comfortable familiarity of Earth was, or the pristine splendour of Altea. Daibazaal’s atmosphere was powerful, right from the first impression. Proud and ambitious, like the race it had spawned.

  


Lance expressed his sentiment with an appreciative whistle. “This place is nice. ”

  


“The planet’s rebirth brought it back to its more environmentally sound state.The urban planners put plants everywhere now.”

  


  


“And the statues?” Lance observed a porcupine-looking specimen that was poking its tongue out at him cheekily through a cloud of pink incense smoke.

  


“Travelling spirits and patrons. Like I’ve said; said place has galra from all kinds of backgrounds. Other refugee races as well. They moved here and brought their gods with them, so they are incorporated into a lot of things.” Keith’s eyes were darting back and forth between the pickup stretch and his phone; trying to locate their cab number as they walked alongside the building.

  


“So the Alfalfi that guy mentioned, are they are galra sub-group?”

  


Keith laughed “God, no. They’re a special case. Not really refugees, but long time allies of non-empire galra societies. They’re visiting for political reasons, mostly.” Keith stopped by a post, bringing his luggage to a stall. “Our automatic cab will arrive here in a couple of minutes.”

  


Lance did the same. “So why was he warning you about them?”

  


“There’s nothing wrong with them, they’re actually really friendly, but they look absolutely terrifying. Easily the worst looking aliens I’ve ever seen.” Keith absently checked the cab tracker on his phone “they have a great sense of humour, though.”

  


“I guess you have to have something going for you if you look that bad.” Lance’s imagination was concocting all sorts of possibilities. He’d seen some pretty horrible looking aliens in his time.

  


“You’ll probably meet them soon. My mum said a few are now boarding in my neighbourhood. They like to go door knocking to greet others, unfortunately.”

  


“I look forward to it.” Lance found the term ‘my neighbourhood’ coming from Keith weirdly endearing. He’d spent so long as a vagabond and misfit, the he was living within a community of honest to goodness families was nothing short of heart warming.

  


“Good. Our cabs coming, so get your ID ready. You’re going to be flashing it a lot over this trip.”

 

* * *

 

  


In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Keith’s house (yes, he actually had his own fully furnished house on Daibazaal) was a damn nice one. He was a hero after all, and the only child of an esteemed warrior-gone-political leader.

  


  


Still, when their cab driver announced their arrival and dropped them off in a fancy neighbourhood outside of a beautiful, minimalistic house complete with a well-trimmed garden, Lance couldn’t quite swallow his disbelief.

  


  


“Keith, you  _live_  here?!”

  


  


“No, I’m just going to break in and make myself at home.” He drawled, walking up the quaint path to the front door “Come on, let’s get this stuff inside.”

  


  


He followed, feet pressing into the marshmallowy maroon coloured moss that seemed to be these people’s answer to lawn grass. The door slid open after recognising Keith’s approaching form, revealing an equally minimalistic, immaculate front hall.

  


  


Keith led him through the main living area where he deposited his stuff before leading down another hall. He opened the third door to his left, revealing a bedroom.

  


  


“This is your room. Theres a small bathroom unit on the left, closets on the right.”

  


  


Lance nodded and let out a vague “cool”, still a bit dumbfounded that Keith was a legitimate house owner, apparently.

  


  


And the house was clean. Absurdly so.

  


  


"If you want to unpack and have a look around, feel free. I have to make some calls. You’re welcome to any soda thats still in the fridge.”

  


  


“Yeah, Ok. Thanks.”

  


  


Keith patted him on the shoulder before leaving him to his own devices. He dragged himself and his luggage into the room, pressing the panel to close it behind him. Even the electronic click of the latch sounded classy.

  


  


He hauled his case onto the bed. Unlike on Earth, the galra had round nest-like beds-usually placed defensively in a room corner- that suited their habit of curling in on themselves while they slept. Noticing how his case sunk into the structure, Lance followed suit; flopping into the rich fluffiness of the mattress and sighing contentedly. Looking up at the clutch of pillows surrounding him, he noticed the largest had what looked like a small confectionary sitting atop of it.

  


  


Ah, house cleaners. That explained the tidiness.

  


  


Lance spent the next twenty minutes unpacking and exploring the features of his quarters, before venturing out into the living room. by the sound of Keith’s footsteps when he left, he’d gone and shut himself in his own bedroom. He couldn’t hear him now. Noise proofing was pretty standard in advanced alien home design.

  


  


He walked into the kitchen and examined the fridge, which did indeed have several cans of alien soda stocked. Taking one, he cracked it open and walked back into the living room to examine the bright array of items lining the feature shelves; standing out starkly against the subtleties of the interior colour scheme.

  


  


As he approached, many weird and wonderful artefacts and paraphernalia came into focus. Some organic, like shells and stones and others crafted; small sculptures and jewellery sitting on display.

  


  


Gifts, Lance imagined.

  


  


What really drew his attention, however, was the photos that sat woven amongst the tokens.

  


  


As someone who had glimpsed into alternate realities before, Lance felt justified in saying that seeing this side of Keith’s life captured in frames felt like an entire parallel existence unfurling across his own.

  


  


Most of them were selfies or group shots, involving all manner of alien faces grinning at the camera alongside Keith. Many appeared to be taken in the light-subdued atmosphere of Daibazaal, but others appeared to be taken off-planet; in cargo ships or on entirely different terrains.

  


  


There were many of him and Krolia, often with Kosmo’s looming mass situated behind them (it still blew Lance’s mind how big he had gotten; no wonder Keith rarely took him to Earth). A particularly sweet picture sat next to some kind of small alien bird skull. Both of them standing triumphantly in front of Keith’s speeder on Earth; grinning through smudges of dirt and grease.

  


  


Shiro was unsurprisingly present in a number of photos. Lance even spotted himself in the background of one taken during the admiral’s promotion ceremony.

  


  


Moving to the far end of the shelf, he recognised another face. The galra that had appeared on Keith’s tablet screen back when he’d visited the Garrison. He was standing next to Keith at what looked to be the foot of a massive stone statue, smiling suavely at the camera with a hand resting on the younger man’s shoulder, which reached just above his midsection. Keith looked bored, giving the impression the shot wasn’t his idea.

  


  


Lance sipped at his Soda, traversing the timelines presented in the images.

  


  


Keith on Kosmo’s back as they waded through a shallow lake. Keith playing some weird card game at a table full of Blade members. Keith presenting what looked like scout children with badges while in his Blade uniform. Keith being embraced and lifted slightly off the ground by a bright and muscular young galra woman who had weirdly similar features to him.

  


  


The pictures varied greatly across people and locations, but one thing remained consistent.

  


  


Keith was smiling in every single one.

  


  


Sometimes bright and intense, other times more subdued. Even when he was clearly trying to cooly suppress it, there was a light dancing in his eyes that betrayed him.

  


  


Lance felt a quiver in his chest. Keith was so, so happy. With his life, his purpose, his family. The kind of contentedness that nestled in the body as a physical presence. He could feel the warmth radiating from the images as apparently as the light reflected from their glossy surfaces.

  


  


“Lance?”

  


  


He turned at the sound of Keith’s voice, catching sight of him walking down the hall; door to his bedroom closing behind him.

  


  


“Hey. Just checking the place out.” He sipped his soda casually, trying the smooth out the odd lump that had formed in his throat “You finish your calls?”

  


  


“Yeah. Just made some updates. Let people know I was here.”

  


  


“Cool. So…what’s the plan now?”

  


Keith waltzed up to the luggage he’d left by the couch. “I’m going to unpack, have a cup of tea, and then we’re going over my mum’s for dinner.”

  


Lance narrowly avoided choking on a mouthful of soda “We’re going to see Krolia? Tonight?!”

  


“Yeah,” Keith was already hauling his case back into his room “I do it every evening I return. She keeps the night free for it. It’s also so I can pick up Kosmo.”

  


  


  
Lance struggled to for a lifeline as Keith left him in the living room “What do I wear?”

  


“What you have on is fine. You’ll make it weird if you dress up for it, trust me.”

  


With that, he disappeared back into his quarters.

  


 

  


* * *

 

  


  


Krolia was someone Lance never really got the opportunity to place.

  


  


She was extremely busy, secretive and private; as one would expect for a multi-millennia old leader of a clandestine warrior cult -because yes, the Blades were a cult, as much as Keith denied it. He’d only seen her in fleeting instances since the end of the war; mostly on televised conferences and inter-planetary updates, standing stoically in attendance or giving short, terse speeches. On top of her personal history, her presence as a coalition representative linked her inextricably with his home planet.

  


  


But despite her secrecy, Lance knew one thing as a fact: she loved Keith fiercely and would sacrifice her own happiness and wellbeing in a heartbeat if it meant making him happy.

  


  


So standing outside the door of her very nice house, situated a pleasant twenty-minute walk from Keith’s own, Lance was feeling a bit off-colour. Partly because he was sure she was expecting a more esteemed guest to serve as Keith’s plus-one, and partly because…  


 

  
Well, he was a little terrified of her.

  


  


Keith knocked on the decorative hardwood door which was intricately carved with abstractions of wolfish beasts. The crafting was beautiful, but the livid features of the depictions did little to calm him. He jolted when Keith bumped his side with his elbow.

  


  


“Lance, chill. I told you, she likes you.”

  


  


“How do you know that?”

 

“Because she’s my mother. I do actually talk to her.”

  


“About me?”

  


“ Sometimes, yeah.”

  


Lance felt flush. Before he could come back with anything, the door swung open, revealing a sharply dressed galra who was definitely not Krolia.

  


  


“Welcome back Keith.”She fixed her neutral stare on Lance “And you must be Mr Mclain. Welcome to the house of the highly esteemed martial commander Krolia.”

  


  


“Uh, thanks. Nice to be here.” Lance’s anxiety was climbed with every one of her hard inflexions.

  


  


“Thanks Mara. Can you tell mum we’re here?”

  


  


“I’ll inform her immediately,” she shifted to the side of the opening, revealing the entry hall “please make yourselves at home in the living room.”

  


  


‘Mara’ closed the door behind them as they entered, before disappearing down some other hall and leaving the two to their own devices.

  


  


“brace yourself, Lance.”

  


  


Lance was about to ask what that was supposed to mean when they turned the corner into the living room and Keith was immediately assaulted by a cosmic wolf the size of a sedan.

  


  


“Kosmo! How are you buddy?” Keith’s laughter was muffled by fur and constricted by the animal’s wight pressing against his chest “You been a good boy while I was away?”

  


  


All Lance could think in that moment was that it was damn fortunate Krolia’s living space was huge and sparsely decorated. One swipe of Kosmo’s tail would easily knock over a coffee table with the velocity he was currently swinging it with.

  


  


Once the hulking creature had calmed down a bit, he turned his attention to Lance; sniffing intently, as if to recall his scent. Seemingly satisfied, he waltzed over to him in a couple of massive strides, pinned him to the ground with one paw and licked him across the face with his massive, wet tongue.

  


  


And of course, before Lance could do more than let out a disgusted squeal, Krolia walked into the room.

  


  


“Keith. Welcome back.” She casually stepped over Kosmo’s tail on her way to her son, before embracing him warmly.

  


  


“Hi, mum.” The warmth in Keith’s voice was touching. Lance wished he could have seen the moment past the mountain of blue fur obstructing his view.

  


  


“Kosmo, leave him be.” At Krolia’s tone, the weight immediately lifted from Lance’s chest, and the wolf sat obediently on his haunches, whining cutely when she walked over and scratched him behind the ear.

  


  


“Welcome to my home, Lance.” She offered him a hand “Sorry about him. He gets excited when Keith returns.”

  


  


Lance stared at her clawed hand before taking it with his own. She swiftly pulled him upright, pitching him forward with enough force to make him stagger. “It’s no problem. Nice to be appreciated, y’know?”

  


  


Subconsciously, he brought his sleeve up to his face to rid it of the saliva layered atop it, but his arm stopped half-way when it met a resisting force. He looked down to see a rod catching his elbow, then up to see that rod in the hand of the door lady, who was offering him a warm towel.

  


  


He blinked at her, before taking the moistened cloth. “Uh, thanks”

  


  


“Mara, please take the remainder of the evening off. I’ll be spending it with my son and his guest.”

  


  


“As you wish, Krolia.” She gave a courteous nod to all three of them “Good evening.”

  


  


The Blade leader returned the sentiment and Mara once again disappeared into one of the several unknown hallways attached to the spacious lounge. Lance wiped his face, clearing off the saliva as best he could. The towel has a pleasant floral fragrance.

  


  


“I’ve arranged for a delivery of your favourite, Keith. Lance, I wasn’t sure of your preference so I requested a larger variety. It should be arriving soon.”

  


  


Lance looked at Keith “Uh…”

  


  


“It’s takeout. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

  


  


“Oh! Ok. Sounds good.” Lance felt suddenly disoriented by the shift in expectation. He’d been having visions of stifled conversation in a grand dining room at a comically long table; Krolia staring critically at him over a glass of something alcoholic and bitter.

  


  


He liked this reality way more already. As he settled into it, he realised that Krolia was not only not in martial uniform, but appeared to be in house casual dress. By Earth standards, he could almost call her loose-fitting garments pyjama-like. He shouldn’t have found it as strange as he did. This was her house after all. He didn’t get around his home wearing his old Garrison digs.

  


  


“You two make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get some tea.”

  


  


As she walked off to the adjoining kitchen, Keith gestured to the lounge and, leading by example, flopped heavily across one of the couches. Lance sat next to him; a little less ambitiously.

  


  


Seeing them settle in, Kosmo sprawled himself out on the impressive central rug, head close enough to keith’s end of the couch that he could reach down and pet him if he so desired.

  


  


“So tell me,” Krolia started from across the space “how has the last movement on Earth been?”

  


  


  


* * *

  


  


  


“So you take your animals to an annual fair to be judged…For a ribbon?”

  


  


“Not just a ribbon- A blue ribbon.” Lance speared a purple vegetable cut in how bowl with his fork “it’s pretty much the highest honour a cow can be bestowed with.”

  


  


“I see. What does the cow gain from this?”

  


  


“Nothing, really. It’s more for the farmers. I do give Kalternecker some peanut butter if she wins, though. It’s her favourite treat.”

  


  


Keith watched his mother’s brow crease in consideration. What had started as polite ice-breaking queries about Lance’s home life had fallen into a rabbit hole of intrigue surrounding Earth animal husbandry. It was a facet of Earth culture she was entirely unfamiliar with, and apparently, one she found fascinating.

  


  


She warmed to Lance long ago. Not too long after she first met him, actually. His loudness and overt personality may have been at odds with her more stoic demeanour, but he was brave, loyal and willing to put himself in harm's way to protect those he loved.

  


  


Also, she knew Keith loved him. That probably had a lot to do with it, as well.

  


  


The visions in the abyss had let it slip first. Their sensory bias channeled more than his reluctant words ever would. She saw his Lance; the longing looks and glances across the castle ship dining table, the way his vision focused on his smile and his hearing on his laugh.

  


  


When they experienced the barely-lucid vision of Lance kissing Allura; holding her in what was unmistakably a lover’s embrace, it had been his mother that had pulled him against her side wordlessly. Stroking a clawed hand through his hair.

  


  


He welcomed comfort without shame. He’d seen her pain, as well. Pain from millennia of heartache and loss. Snippets of family, friends, lovers and homes eradicated one after another. Body and mind broke and reformed again and again without respite.

  


  


And then there was his father. His face appeared so bright in her memories, warmer and more loving than any recollection he himself could muster. It was a warmth she lost with his death but had found again in him.

  


  


His mother wanted him to find that warmth, he’d realised.

  


  


Which is why she prevented him from defaulting to Shiro as his guest for the ceremony. And why, he assumed, she had been so adamant about him bringing Lance over for dinner tonight. She wanted him to have every opportunity to make this work. To show that she wanted it to work.

  


  


So sitting there on the couch, quietly chewing on some weird starchy root he’d fished out of his alien broth, he allowed himself to spectate the volley of conversation between her and Lance.

  


  


“I wasn’t aware there was so much ceremony surrounding farming practices on Earth. It must be taxing.”

  


  


“Nah, that stuff is just for fun. Country fairs and stuff, you know?”

  


  


She most certainly didn’t know, but she nodded regardless. “When I first encountered a cow it was quite aggressive. How do you train them to be docile enough to parade around?”

  


  


Keith locked with Lance’s perplexed gaze. “Dad snuck mum into a paddock at night to show her what cows were. Instead he found a bull. An angry one.” He’d heard the story from his mother several times. it was one of her favourites.

  


  


“ah. Well, bulls aren’t as nice as cows. They’re not generally ‘paraded’ around.

  


  


“Akira cut his leg very badly trying to escape the pen” She tilted her head fondly “humans have very poor night vision. I had to tear up his coat to bandage the wound and then drive us both back on his speeder.”

  


  


“Sounds like a great date night.”

  


  


“It was memorable. Not so much for him, though. He drank heavily to numb himself while I applied stitches.” She sipped at her glass of import ginger beer “such a low pain threshold…”  


  


  


There was a softness to her voice as she spoke. The same misty tone that surfaced whenever she got lost in memories. He felt like he should have been surprised she was letting her guard down so freely with Lance, but the evening was calm and their food was comforting. Besides, She was always more sentimental the evenings he returned from Earth.

  


  


“Oh, so speaking of stitching,” Lance piped in, “Keith says I’m seeing a tailor tomorrow?” What’s that all about?”

  


  


“You will be dressed for Keith’s ceremony. As his guest, your outfit will be customised to match his own, as well as to incorporate your own marshal decorations.”

  


  


Lance looked at him.

  


  


“They’ll make you look important.”

  


  


His mother side-eyed him “It’s an important ceremony, and this is a delicate time. It warrants to detail.”

  


  


“You’ve been hanging around Anrei too much.”

  


  


She just smiled “He is the spiritual head of your procession. His thoroughness is to be expected.”

  


  


“Should I know this Anrei guy?” Lance asked.

  


  


“He’s is the latest priest of my mum’s old spiritual sect,” Keith threw her a smirk over his broth-filled spoon “they’re best friends.”

  


  


She ignored his jab “He is a good man and he is very fond of you. I respect him duly.”

  


  


He turned his attention back to Lance “He’s that weird guy I was talking to on my tablet that day you came to the Garrison.”

  


  


“Oh, Ok. He seemed fun.”

  


  


“I guess you could call him that.”

  


  


“That ‘weird guy’,” his mother looked pointedly at him “will be blessing and gifting you with your luxite blade in the name of the sect. At the very least, try to show some respect when you see him in public.”

  


  


Keith rolled his eyes “I’ll behave if he does.”

  


  


his mum waved her drink dismissively, turning her attention to Lance “He will be eager to meet you, Lance. He has been very curious about Keith’s partner.”

  


  


Partner. To Lance, the word probably sounded innocuous nestled within her cool intonation, but Keith knew her too well to miss it. She was taunting him.

  


  


Two could play at that game.

  


  


“Just a heads up, he has no respect for personal space. Not that mum seems to mind.”

  


  


He saw the purple of her iris flash his direction; the only tell of annoyance on her otherwise impassive face. Lance pretended to look innocently disinterested in the remark.

  


  


“Excuse his irreverence, Lance. I assure you that you will find lord Anrei to be pleasant company.”

  


  


Keith smirked into his drink, ignoring the look she threw his way.

  


  


“No problem! I’ll bring my most charming smile with me.

  


  


“Good to hear.” She took another swig of her drink before purposefully setting down on the table beside her “And on the subject of charm, I think Keith and I should take this opportunity to familiarise you with some of the general social customs of the galra elite. Your status as a paladin will get you many free passes here, but it helps to know the basics.”

  


  


Lance’s face lit up “All right, Galra etiquette! lay it on me.”

  


  


“You’re really that excited to learn about manners?”

  


  


“Hey, you don’t get to sass me after coming to earth with all that suck-up charmer talk. I just want to even the playing field.”

  


  


  


“And that you will,” Krolia interjected, before looking pointedly at Keith “Both of you stand up. Keith, you’re going to demonstrate the basic for greeting different sect leaders.”

  


  


  


Keith heaved himself up with a long-suffering sigh. It was undermined by the smile that refused to leave his face. Lance just looked so eager; it was contagious.

  


  


“Wow me with your cultural finesse, O great socialite.” Lance hoisted himself to his feet sweeping an arm out grandly before him.

  


  


Keith couldn’t say no to that.

  


  


* * *

 

  


  


“Y’know, maybe it’s just my ignorance showing, but somehow I never pictured the galra as sticklers for high-end etiquette.”

  


  


Lance’s voice sounded unusually loud echoing down the quiet street. It broke through the rhythm of their footsteps and the light click of Kosmo’s claws as the wolf trailed a few feet behind them. Everything was bathed in a slight pink glow; a diffusion of moonlight in Daibazaal’s atmosphere that made night seem like an extended late sunset.

  


  


“It is your ignorance showing.” Keith said airily “yours and about ninety-nine per cent of the known universe, though, so don’t feel too bad about it.”

  


  


Keith must have let something slip in his tone because he could suddenly feel Lance’s gaze on him.

  


  


“Things will change eventually. It might take a while, but people will come around. The galra have a lot to offer. They just need to, uh, promote themselves a bit better.”

  


  


A small piece of foliage protruded from the manicured hedge at Keith’s side. He snapped it off and worried it in his hands as he walked. “It’s a shitty situation, Lance. It’s OK to admit that. My mother, Kolivan, the Blades, The new tourism department, me…We’re all aware of it.”

  


  


“-but it can get better.” Lance bumped his shoulder with his own; an irritating but grounding gesture. “I spent several years putting my life on the line to fight the galra and now I sell fruit to them at a Sunday morning farmer’s market. If I can make that leap then I think most people can.”

  


  


Keith slid a dull gaze over to him “It’s different with you and the paladins. You guys-”

  


  


“‘We’, Keith.”

  


  


“we had the Blades to ease us into accepting the galra. Most people only ever saw the empire’s face. The warlords and soldiers that enslaved them.” He threw the tortured scrap of plant life to the pavement “Can you honestly say if it weren’t for my being galra, you wouldn’t think exactly the same thing?”

  


  


Lance remained quiet for a beat. he clicks of Kosmo’s claws marked the seconds passing.  
  


  


“I guess that’s what makes people like you so important then.”

  


  


Keith stared at the other man, doubt etched into his features.

  


  


“You’re kinda like a bridge, y’know? Us paladins are supposed to be symbols of a peaceful future. The fact that one of us is galra is a big deal.”

  


  


Keith wasn’t oblivious to the fact- Kolivan and his mum had drilled the concept into him more than enough -but to hear it coming from Lance was…Something else.

  


  


“You really believe that?”

  


  


“I do. So do Hunk and Pidge and Shiro.”

  


  


Their names hung in the foreign air of the night, bringing a surreal familiarity amongst them.

  


  


“Allura believed it, too.”

  


  


Keith laughed softly “she always was one to believe in hopeless cases, even from the beginning. Not like she had much of a choice back then.”

  


  


“She did have a choice. She could have given up. On us, the mission, herself.” Lance looked at him; moonlit eyes catching his on “but she didn’t. She had faith in us to carry on the fight for the universe and in the end, it paid off.”

  


  


Lance’s sincerity was becoming an increasingly familiar experience for Keith, but it still made him a little uncomfortable. The man was perceptive in a way that made him feel far too transparent.

  


  


“She’d be proud of what you’re doing Keith. What the Blades have become and what they represent. And she’d be happy that you had found a place amongst them where you can feel like you belong.”

  


  


“Thanks,” Keith said, unsure how else to respond. His cheeks were burning again, and he hoped their colour was lost amongst the sunset tones that painted them.

  


  


“Anytime.”

  


  


They walked in comfortable silence down the residential street, Keith giving a polite nod to familiar faces that would occasionally pass them. It was a nice evening, and they weren’t the only ones around. “Crepuscular” was the best way to describe the galra circadian rhythms. Not entirely nocturnal or diurnal, but mostly active during twilight hours. At least on planetary time; night and day meant little in a space-age lifestyle.

  


  


He was a familiar face by now amongst the local community. Being under seven feet tall and distinctly not purple, he was pretty hard to miss. And if he happened to be alongside Kosmo he could kiss any anonymity goodbye. Even the galra couldn’t resist petting giant dogs.

  


  


Still, his neighbours were familiar enough with him to give him space and galra were generally more reserved with their ‘celebrity’ interactions than humans were- something Keith was endlessly grateful for. He appreciated being able to walk alongside Lance relatively uninterrupted.

  


  


A breeze rustled through the indigo foliage of a tree to his right. They were only a few minutes from his place.

  


  


“So what do you think of my mum?”

  


  


Lance raised an eyebrow “you mean do I still think she’s terrifying? Absolutely.”

  


  


“C’mon. You ate fast food with her while she was in her PJs.”

  


  


“So those  _were_  PJs!”

  


  


“She spends all day wearing military garb, attending meetings and/or locked in combat. Once she gets home she kinda drops her standards. You can’t really blame her.” It was something that Keith sympathised all too much with since his lame and limited attempts at a political side-job on Daibazaal.

  


  


“Power to her, man. I just didn’t want to ask in case they were ceremonial dinner party clothes or something.”

  


  


“Again Lance;  _fast food_.”

  


  


“Hey! I’ve been here, like, half a day. Cut me some slack.”  


  


  


The indignant squeak in his voice struck a certain bittersweet feeling in Keith. It spoke of a time long ago, when they’d bickered on the castleship’s training deck over who struck which blow on whatever target first. All the times they’d stupidly resisted each other over pride or temper or whatever other hangups they had. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he had yet to grow into his own skin.

  


  


But now that indignant squeak collapsed into mirth. All the venom and resistance of Lance’s younger self was absent. An open dialogue, as opposed to a bitter retort.

  


  


“You’re going to have to pick up the pace. You thought today was hard? Tomorrow is going to kick your ass.”

  


  


“Pfft. I’m not scared of some tailors and a ceremony rehearsal.”He absently fluffed Kosmo’s mane when the huge creature shoved his head between them, eager for attention. “Besides, it’s your fault for inviting me this late. I could have had weeks to prepare for this but no, you had to play coy. I bet Shiro gets to play the chill tourist for the next few days while I slave of cultural etiquette study.”

  


  


Keith didn’t feel like admitting that Shiro was, in fact, playing the part of ‘chill tourist’. Right about now the Admiral was using his Garrison leave to visit the mineral lakes outside the urban compound. No doubt being tailed by a personal assistant/guide pushed onto him by his mother “I told you, Krolia asked him before I even knew I had to have a guest.”

  


  


Lance sighed dramatically “You’re really putting me through the grinder, Kogane. I’m just a simple farmer. I know not the ways of these fancy-pants galra folk.”

  


  


Keith snorted.

  


  


“And what’s all this about spiritual sects? Didn’t think your mother was really the, uh, religious type. I feel like I’m really going to offend someone in the next few days…”

  


  


“Relax, everyone here is pretty introverted about their beliefs. As for my mum, she has some leanings. Though, in all honesty, I think she’s less invested in the sect beliefs than she is its current leader.”

  


  


“Oh, that’s how it is?”

  


  


“Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

  


  


“I gotta say, Krolia doesn’t really seem like ‘falling in love’ type…”

  


  


Keith fixed Lance with a deadpan “seriously? I’m right here, Lance.”

  


  


“Oh yeah…” he said vaguely “is it weird? For you, I mean.”

  


  


“Eh. He’s nice enough. A little annoying, but he means well.” Keith nodded to a Galra woman walking past with her toddler in tow. She lived a few doors down from him. “She’s happy when she’s around him, I can tell. She even sings sometimes, when she thinks no one is listening. It’s nice.”

  


  


Lance hummed in agreement. “That's good to hear. After all she’s been through she deserves to be happy.”

  


  


_ so do you. _

  


  


The response jumped to his tongue but was pushed down just as swiftly.

  


  


“We all deserve that.” He said, “A chance to move on.”

  


  


He may not have been the most emotionally perceptive person on the planet, but Keith knew he was treading delicate territory. He kept his gaze nonchalantly on Kosmo’s glowing markings. Enigmatic blue. More hypnotic than Lance’s marks, but less so than the blue of his gaze. Yet another reason to avoid it at the moment. He felt like the man could pry anything from him with a mere look, sometimes.

  


  


“How about you? Meet anyone special here?” Lance’s tone was light “You seem pretty popular.”

  


  


Oh dear. Lance McLain was asking about his love life.

  


  


“Not really. I keep pretty busy while I’m here so I don’t have much time for socialising.” It wasn’t a lie, just riddled with omissions. His mother had given him lessons in remembering names and important political figures precisely because socialising had become so central to his life here. But in terms of actual relationships? It was pretty much restricted to a handful of Blade members. Friendships that tended to form in those kinds of tight-knit communities.

  


  


“That’s a shame,” Lance tutted “I’m sure hundreds of fangirls and fanboys out there just felt a phantom stab of despair.”

  


  


“They’ll live.”

  


  


“Of course they will! With Keith Kogane out there fighting for their peace and freedom.”

  


  


Not for the first time, Keith thought Lance may have a skewed idea of what it was the Blades actually did nowadays.

  


  


“This may shock you Lance, but not everyone here is obsessed with me. Hero or no, I don’t exactly make the cut for galra bachelor extraordinaire.”

  


  


“Aw,” Lance pouted theatrically “too short?”

  


  


“Only by a couple of feet. apparently, I’m also ‘ _eljin_ ’ coloured, which I think is a type of native worm here.”

  


  


“Yikes, that's cold. Maybe this is karma for all those fangirls you spurned back at the Garrison.”

  


  


“I had fangirls?”

  


  


Lance gave him a dry look. Keith grinned back. He had been aware, of course. It was amusing to look back on it now, imagining Lance’s petty jealousy and his own insensitivity to those pretty girls that would occasionally stutter out date requests and confessions that fell on indifferent and very gay ears.

  


  


Even back then He thought Lance was cute. A spot of warmth in the tumultuous experience that was Garrison life. He’d had far too much baggage to allow himself a crush, though.

  


  


“Figures. All you wanted to do was show me up.”

  


  


“All you wanted to do was show me up.”

  


  


Lance’s brow furrowed. He looked as if he’d genuinely never considered that. “Damn. You’re actually right.” And then, after a moment of silence, he started laughing. It began as a light chuckle and quickly built into unapologetic bursts of glee.

  


Keith felt his own features morph into a toothy smile. Lance was beautiful when he smiled, but he was a downright inspiration when he laughed like this. Genuine and pure.It was something Keith had sorely missed when they went their separate ways.

  


  


  


The laughter slowly died down; Lance rubbing at the corner of his eye with the heel of his palm and sighing “God, We were a couple of jackasses back then, huh?”

  


  


  


“absolutely.” Keith made the risky move at looking at his long-time crush then. His eyes were still alight with mirth and his features were drenched in the surreal tint of the Daibazaalian evening. Each tiny scar from battle was visible on the sharp edge of his jaw. Splinters of imperfection that were proof of what they had been through together in a time were every day was so uncertain. “But I think we turned out pretty good in the end.”

  


  


  


A funny look crossed Lance’s features then. A falter that quickly recovered into an easy smile “Yeah, you turned out A-Ok, mullet.”

  


  


Keith was about to return the compliment, feeling Lance’s praise was unbalanced when the other man spoke before him.

  


  


“Hey, isn’t this your street?”

  


  


Keith paused, following the trajectory of his pointing finger. It was indeed his street; the night lanterns adorning his humble front garden visible from where they were standing.

  


  


“Well spotted.”

  


  


They exchanged a glance; both having paused at the junction of their path and the home stretch.  


  


  


“Race ya!” Lance’s shout echoed down the sleepy street; his body launching obnoxiously in front of Keith’s own.  
  


  


  
“Hey!”

  


  


Lance offered no response to his indignation except his rapid footfalls on the path and his dumb cackling echoing into the night.

  


  


  


* * *

 

  
  


  


Keith beat him back, of course. Solely by virtue of Lance forgetting that Kosmo was a cosmic, teleporting wolf. This was termed ‘cheating’ by a breathless Lance and thus their bet was null and void.

  


  


Kosmo himself disappeared after one final and adorable nuzzle with Keith. According to the half-galra, the wolf spent most of the night off on his own in the nearby wilds doing god-knows-what, only to turn up snoozing in Keith’s back yard by morning. He even had a huge patch of extra-soft moss/grass as a doggie bed.

  


  


Figures Keith would have an animal companion just as weird and obtuse as himself. Still, the huge animal brought out a much gentler, peaceful side in Keith. That, and Kosmo was just too gosh-darn cute to stay mad at. All five-hundred kilos of him.

  


  


 

They spend the next hour chilling with tea in front of Keith’s holo-screen in the living room. Lance shortly gave up on whatever weird galran soap opera was going on and instead quizzed Keith about the photos and memorabilia surrounding them.

  


 

  


The memories were diverse. Traversing war zones to remove landmines, providing water channels to remote communities, bringing impoverished denizens of broken governments to Daibazaal for refuge. It was like being a defender of the universe wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to nurture a peaceful liberation as well. In the short time, Keith had been a humanitarian relief worker he had amassed an incredible network of allies and list of achievements.

  


  


  


“You’ve done so much, man,” He said as Keith finished explaining an installation of grain storage infrastructure within a war-torn community on planet Arken. “It’s crazy. It really is.”

  


  


A bashful smile rewarded Lance’s compliment “I figure the universe needs a helping hand right now more than a swift blade. There’s been enough violence already. And there's still so much tension out there, you know?”

  


  


“yeah, makes sense.” Lance tried to ignore the pang of guilt that pulsed insistently in his chest. Keith had suffered so much. All his life, basically. And here he was giving and giving and giving. Stilling the blade that he once so easily let fly in order to simply help people regain their footing.

  


  


Lance…Hadn’t done that.

  


  


_ What have you done, huh? hid on earth? become an easy-going farmhand? _

  


  


He loved his family’s work, he really did. But he couldn’t suppress the bitter little voice in his head.

  


  


_ Is that all you have to offer the universe, Lance? _

  


  


Their conversation drew to a close when a hearty yawn from Keith prompted the older man to check his wall clock- an alien model as of yet incomprehensible to Lance.

  


  


“We’d better get some sleep. Early start tomorrow.”

  


  


“Agreed.” As if prompted, Lance felt a yawn overtake his own features. He was probably going to be suffering through some manner of jet-lag tomorrow, so he may as well get in some solid sleep hours.  


  


  


Keith stood up and took both of their mugs to the kitchen counter “Toothbrush and toiletries should be in your bathroom cupboards. Don’t worry; it’s all stuff from earth. Galran toothpaste has a habit of dissolving human bone enamel.”

  


  


Lance pushed himself off the couch, stretching leisurely “Geez, What unlucky guy found that out?”

  


  


“I don’t know, but I’m grateful for their sacrifice.” Keith pulled out a drawer under the counter and snatched a small box from its depths. Lance recognised it as a box of his weird galra cigarettes. He realised Lance was staring.

  


  


“A precaution for tomorrow. I have a feeling it will be stressful for both of us.”

  


  


“You really think I’m gonna crack under the pressure, huh?”

  


  


“No, but you’ll want these by the end of it, trust me.”

  


  


“All right mister cryptic, I’ll trust your judgement for now.”

  


  


“I appreciate that.” He pocketed the box “And Lance?”

  


  


Lance halted his full body stretch at Keith’s gentle tone. “Yeah?”

  


  


“Thanks for coming. It’s nice having you here.”

  


  


The brightness in Keith’s eyes was a little hard to look at directly. Lance settled for staring at the empty mugs on the counter. It was an oddly familiar feeling. A bashfulness that he’d felt before. Like mumbling awkwardly to a girl in the halls of the Garrison. Like writing sappy love notes in the margins of his notebook.

  


  


Like talking to a crush.

  


  


Oh.

  


  


oh.

  


  


…Well this was an interesting development.

  


  


Lance nodded numbly “No problem, it's nice to be here.” After that, he promptly turned, mumbled a hurried ‘good night’ and left for his room.

  


  


When he heard the merciful click of his door sliding shut behind him he let out the breath he had been subconsciously holding.

  


  


“Well, I’ll be damned.” He said to nobody in particular.

  


 

* * *

 

  


 

 

The face that stared back at him from his vanity mirror was different that evening.

  


  


It was dumb with realisation, etched with sleepiness and his skin was a little irritated from the unfamiliar atmosphere (an occurrence he’d long since learnt would wear off in a couple of days).

  


  


His face care routine could deal with the mild itchiness and the sleep would ease the drawn look, but the realisation wasn’t going to be washed away so easily.

  


  


Of course he would uncover this now. Of  _course_ he would. Right when he’s stuck on a close quarters trip wherein he’d be glued to Keith’s side for the next several days.

  


  


This trip was already pressing so much onto him. The constant barrage of foreign stimuli after spending the past year on a quiet ranch…While it was a welcome and enthralling change it was also exhausting. And now, on top of it all, he had to deal with a blossoming crush.

  


  


On Keith Kogane of all people. How did that even happen?

  


  


…When did that even happen? In his stricken state, he didn’t care to ponder just how long this had been tracking his steps.

  


  


It wasn’t the same as Allura, whatever these feelings were. He’d always known with her. The infatuation turned genuine love. Textbook butterflies and blushes and heartache start to untimely finish.

  


  


With Keith it was different. New and unprecedented. It wasn’t like he never thought he could fall for a guy, but…  


  


  


Keith Kogane.

  


  


His reflection looked perplexed. Like an animal that couldn’t register its own image.

  


  


Keith Kogane.

  


  


_ Keith Kogane. _

  


  


_ I have a crush on Keith Kogane. _

  


  


The thought like it was a particularly tricky flash card for a physics test. One that he could never quite retain in his head.

  


  


  


He failed to come to anything conclusive that evening, and instead opted to sleep on it.

  


  


  


He did notice one thing in his reflection though. Keith’s customs buddy had been right.

  


  


  


His marks were looking dull.

  


  


  


He chalked it up to stress and drifted off to sleep on the foreign sheets.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! I've started on the next one. Some new characters and scenaros come to light so should be funn.


	6. Passive agression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance attend the ceremony rehearsal.
> 
> Lance gets a taste of how much bullshit comes with being Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so
> 
> I’m SORRY. This was supposed to be finished like a month ago but life has been hectic and I am often too simple a writer (and woman) to combat it :^(
> 
> 2) Look at that word count fly. This was supposed to be two chapters, but individually I thought they were dry and bleh so I condensed them, rewrote a couple times and mushed them together. Pro: (hopefully) not boring, con: like over 20k with two chapters worth of plot contents
> 
> 3) No, writing this chapter was not a smooth journey
> 
> 4) Yes, I have agonised over this fic for the entire unintentional hiatus.
> 
>  OTHER STUFF:
> 
> I have a tumblr and twitter. You can talk to me there. I do art and am lonely.
> 
> @Foxcote on tumblr
> 
> @Lilli_J_F on twitter
> 
>    
> Come talk to me about klance or aliens /or how vld screwed over all of its major established themes in favour of shock value and bland heteronormative drama/ or something.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

It had been a while since Lance had experienced the momentary surrealism that occurs upon waking up in a foreign location.

 

Those eerie few seconds of alienation that conflicted with the comfort of being well-rested and warm. The sensation was particular to a travellers life and one he had experienced time and time again as part of team Voltron.

 

In those first few seconds coming back to the waking world he was disoriented by the lavender of the walls; a far cry from the pale lemon of his bedroom back on earth. The sheets that surrounded him were too dark and heavy and smelt of something sweet but distinctly extra-terrestrial.

 

Also, that alarm was definitely too shrill to be allowed anywhere near him back home.

 

Memories of the previous day rising back, Lance groaned; flinging his arm out to grasp the offensive piece of tech. After a solid minute of fiddling with the flashing cube he managed to shut it up. The screen read 7:02 AM.

 

Huh. How about that. Keith had set it to earth time conversion overlay for his convenience. That or the other man thought he was too slow to catch on to the Daibazaal standard time for this region.

 

Pfft. Keith.

 

Keith.

 

Lance stared at the blinking digits dully.

 

Yup. Crush was still there. Another foreign reality that he was just going to have to deal with.

 

Damn.

 

He hauled himself out of bed and made his way to his adjoined bathroom, with the feeble hope the seedling infatuation could be drowned with a nice hot shower.

 

All he achieved was the realisation that his own provided shampoo was the same as he had smelt on Keith yesterday.

 

* * *

 

The second call emanating from his tablet convinced Keith to break his push-up count. It would almost definitely be followed by a third if he ignored it. That was how it usually went.

 

“Good morning Shiro.”

 

“You sound out of breath. Have I interrupted something?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes at Shiro’s lewd intonation. His brother knew that he did resistance exercises first thing in the morning. It was a force of habit he’d kept up since his days in the abyss.

 

“Why are you up this early? You’re supposed to be on vacation. Go back to sleep.”

 

“I just wanted to wish you luck with the rehearsal today.”

 

“It’s a rehearsal. I don’t need luck. I need an excuse to get out of it.”

 

“That wouldn’t be very fair on Lance, would it?”

 

“He can come with me. We’ll just wing it on the day of the ceremony.”

 

“Keith…”

 

“I’m kidding. We’re both going today and it will be boring and tedious.” Keith flopped back onto his bed; breath steadying and sweat on his back cooling in the ambient chill of the room.

 

“Come on, it won’t be that bad. My rehearsal went fine.”

 

“You don’t have to do anything! You just stand in the crowd wearing fancy clothes and look ‘solemn and content’.” Keith flung his arm out with an indignant thud on his sheets “I have to memorise shit and and speak nonsense in front of Lance, hundreds of Blade affiliates and a whack priest.

 

“That’s not a nice way to refer to you prospective stepfather.”

 

“I’ll kill you Shiro. I will.”

 

“Been there, done that.” Shiro sighed “At least try to enjoy yourself. That way, you might actually have fun.”

 

Keith grunted.

 

“You’re basically going on a dress-up date with Lance. I’d have thought you would be over the moon.”

 

“ _Okay,_ so that’s why you called me. To make jabs about me and Lance.”

 

“'Lance and _I_ '. How was last night?”

 

“We visited my mother,” Keith said, tapping his finger on the sheets irritably.

 

“I know, she said it went well. Thinks Lance is charming.”

 

“God, could you two stop bitching about me for one day?!”

 

“We’re just happy for you, is all.”

 

“I’m hanging up.”

 

“Okay, but really, try to enjoy yourself today. And tell Lance I said good luck.”

 

Keith rubbed at his eyes with his free hand “Yeah, yeah. I’ll give him your number so he can call you himself. Harass him for a change. Now go on your lame tourist expedition or whatever it is you’re doing today.”

 

Shiro laughed “Bye Keith.”

 

Keith mumbled a “see ‘ya” and ended the call. He looked at his alarm clock. Lance wasn’t likely to be up for a while yet. He may have lived the life of a farmer, but his sparse indulgence in intergalactic travel was bound to throw him off balance sleep-wise.

 

Realising his push-up count had been lost, he sighed and pulled himself to his bathroom. The dried sweat on his back was uncomfortable, and he had to be spotless unless he wanted to be stink-eyed by a load of over-dressed galra dignitaries.

 

And people here still wondered why he turned down political leadership roles.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith gave himself a moment to soak in the image of a yawning, damp-haired Lance walking blindly into his kitchen before breaking his silence.

 

“Morning Lance.”

 

Lance’s eyes snapped open and his mouth shut. He clearly hadn’t been expecting him to have been waiting at the small dining table. For a moment he just stared.

 

And then he stared for another few moments.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow, unsure where to go with that conversationally.

 

“Good morning!” Lance nearly shouted. He rested his weight on one hand on the counter in a manner that was probably supposed to look cool. His smile looked too big.

 

“Do you…Want some breakfast?” Keith raised his porridge-filled spoon to illustrate his point. Lance didn’t seem to be running at top speed this morning, best to help him out.

 

“Oh! Yeah. That’d be good.” He looked around the kitchen distractedly.

 

“That sachet there- put it in the microwave for…Just put it in and press the green button twice.” Teaching Lance elementary galran numerals was off the cards right now, he thought. Shortly after he spoke, the hum of the microwave started up.

 

“What is this stuff? Porridge?”

 

“Kind of, it’s a protein enriched cereal grain. Keeps you full half the day. It’s a staple here.”

 

Lance looked from the microwave to Keith’s bowl. He didn’t look impressed.

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it. It’s sweet. “

 

The microwave dinged and Lance pulled out the sachet and looked helplessly at Keith.

 

“Bowls are in the cupboard to your left. Cutlery’s in the first draw.” He spoke through a mouthful of the, admittedly, unappealing-looking sludge.

 

After dumping the sachet contents into a bowl, Lance joined him at the table. Face apprehensive through the steam rising from his meal. Keith assumed it was based in his food prejudice.

 

“I swear it’s not bad.”

 

“Yeah, I trust you.”

 

Keith watched as Lance looked at his bowl and stabbed the porridge with his spoon experimentally. Had he said something weird the day before? Made him uncomfortable? Were his eyes doing that thing were they turned yellow? That usually only happened when he was stressed. Lance would tell him if that were the case, right?

 

“Hey, this is good!”

 

Snapping out of his panic, Keith looked up at the other man, who was wearing a grin “Tastes like honey and marshmallows! I thought Galra were more into strong, bitter stuff.”

 

Keith felt some of the tension fall from him. Whatever was bothering Lance wasn’t severe enough not to be remedied by tasty food. “That's mostly just their traditional vegetable dishes. Most general stuff nowadays is pretty palatable for humans. And they have more cultural influences now, which means way more flavours.”

 

“No kidding. I could eat this for every meal.” He smiled around another mouthful.

 

“Well, sorry to cut you short, but we should get a move on. You took ages in the shower.” Keith emphasised his point by scooping up the last spoonful and eating it as he got up to take his bowl to the counter.

 

“Beauty takes time, Keith!”

 

Keith walked past him on his way back down the hall “Apparently it also takes all five samples of body wash in the shower. You know those little bottles were concentrates, right? You’re only supposed to use a few drops.”

 

“Wha- How do you know I used them all? Do you have super galra senses now as well?”

 

“No, but all the galra at the rehearsal will. You’re going to smell like a walking bouquet to them.” Trying to hide his grin, walked past Lance in the direction of his own bedroom “I’m going to get our outfits. With a bit of luck, a change of clothes will get rid of the worst of the stink. Finish your breakfast.”

 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

 

He looked back at Lance’s indignant face; hair scruffy and body clothed in a navy blue T-shirt and jeans. It was an attractive look, he’d admit, but not one that was going to cut it for today.

 

“In the eyes of the Galran spiritual sects? Everything.” He said dismissively, turning into the hall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Robes. Why is it always _robes_.”

 

Lance huffed, untangling the sash on his side for the fourth time. The knot never looked right. He glanced once again the instructions Keith had given him. The diagrams were annotated by bubbly looking galran writing, clearly intended for children.

 

“Required wearing for the temple grounds.” Keith’s voice travelled through the open door to his back yard. He was giving Kosmo his daily leg of some thawed animal as well as some petting for good measure. “At least they’re asking you to wear something. Remember the cults on Hujann? “

 

Lance shuddered. Out of all the coalition recruitment missions they’d been on during their Voltron days, that had been the most uncomfortable. “Point taken. I just wish these things were a bit more intuitive.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want a hand?”

 

“…Fine.” Dignity be damned, Lance just wanted that knot tied so he could move on with his life. “I don’t understand why it has to be so complicated.”

 

“Quit whining,” Keith waltzed back into the living area towards him “you’re just bitter because you can’t follow basic instructions.”

 

“Says the guy who punched commander Iverson in the face.”

 

“Shut up and turn around.” Keith’s tone was light, but the way he was walking right up to him caught him off guard.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Turn around. It’s easier for me to tie it from the back.”

 

Lance didn’t turn around “just show me how to do it.”

 

“I am! Turn around.” Keith’s brows furrowed cutely, and Lance realised his thoughts regarding Keith were now going to be annotated with adoring adjectives.

 

_Stop staring at him and say something!_

 

“Whatever” he squeaked, turning around with as much indignation as he could channel.

 

“So weird.” He heard Keith mumble as his hands grasped at the loosened sash around his waist and twisted the fabric deftly.

 

Each brush against the thin fabric may as well have been a whip’s strike. Every lash a reminder of his untimely infatuation.

 

Thankfully, Keith quickly conjured a perfectly crisp tie to his robes and he was spared prolonged close-quarters suffering. Suffering he enjoyed way, way too much.

 

“There, perfect,” Keith dropped his grasp on the fabric without fanfare and walked over to the counter where he left his satchel bag- The one that clashed terribly with the blue of his own lookalike robes “now are you ready to go? Got your ID?”

 

“Yes-” Lance was about to say ‘ _mum_ ’ but somehow that kind of casual jab felt…wrong, now. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. I’m ready.”

 

“Go wait out the front; we’ll head out in a minute. I’m just going to grab some things.”

 

“‘’K.” Glad to have some breathing room, Lance made his way down the main hall towards the front door; grasping the old-school style manual handle a pulling out open.

 

-And nearly having a coronary at the sight that greeted him of the doorstep.

 

Teeth. So, so many teeth sticking like splinters out of red flesh. Huge fathomless black eyes studded into a pale head that extended into a long neck that disappeared into a surprisingly lavish-looking blue coat.

 

A walking nightmare. A harbinger of death. Lance felt sure this was it. He’d slipped in the shower and this was a fever dream prelude to his end.

 

A little weird it was carrying a basket full of flowers, though.

 

“Hail, friend! You must be Keith’s companion,” the creature unclasped one of its skeletal hands from the basket’s handle and, terrifyingly, angled it towards him.

 

Lance couldn’t tear his eyes from the creatures death maw. Doing so would surely be a mistake.

 

“Hi, Jarvirra, nice to see you.” Lance registered Keith walking up to his side, his voice slightly hurried.

 

“Sadly, I do not think your friend feels the same.” The creature…Jarvirra…Inclined their head oddly. It was enough to break Lance out of his trance. He tried to collect his sanity.

 

It’s just an alien Lance. You’ve met thousands before. Use your manners!

 

“Don’t mind him,” Keith said dismissively “He’s uh…Not used to…”

 

“Ah, I see.” With an eerily swift twitch of their neck, Jarvirra fixed Lance in their gaze “Never seen an Alfalfi before, young one?”

 

Oh. That’s what they looked like. Keith wasn’t lying.

 

Lance shook his head no. Then he realised he should probably start talking again.

 

“Uh, no. No, I haven’t”

 

They hummed an odd, clicking hum. Something like marbles jangling together in a bag. “In that case, sorry to ruin your day. And so early, as well!” They let out an agonised choke of what Lance assumed was laughter.

 

He smiled nervously, not sure what else to do.

 

“Here, I came to deliver this. Maybe it will make it up to you…”

 

Jarvirra looked at him expectantly. Lance mentally slapped himself. “Lance! My name is Lance,” he cleared his throat and, remembering his manners, stuck out his own hand. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

 

The Alfalfi gave a terrifying smile and eclipsed Lance’s hand with their own; cold, pale and tipped with black claws. “Not at all. You did well not to run screaming. Most people do.” They let go and Lance wondered if a handshake greeting was something they practised, or something They’d picked up from Keith. “Here, for you. The cult of Syrix welcomes you to this lovely planet.”

 

Lance took the basket gingerly from their proffering hands “Thank you! This is really nice. Of the…Cult. The flowers are pretty.”

 

Another strange head inclination. “You are welcome. Those are a native wildflower, cultivated afar on my people’s planet since the days of the original Daibazaal.” Jarvirra had no visible pupils, but Lance felt like the alien’s shimmering stare was drilling into him “-A popular ingredient in rituals of our cult. Though, their beauty alone makes them sought after.”

  

“Thank you, Jarvirra. I’m sure Lance feels thoroughly welcomed.” Keith interjected. There was a crawl of suspicion to his words “So, did Anrei send you here this morning?”

 

“His lordship oversees all visitations on behalf of the cult.” They said vaguely, folding their hands in front of them.

 

“Right…” He plucked one of the handsome orange flowers from the basket, rolling its stem between his fingers “ Any reason he chose this particular morning? When we’re heading to see him?”

 

“I would not claim to interpret the will of his lordship. However, I would venture that t’would be in his best interest to remind you of the day’s significance given your history of -how would you put it?- ‘Ditching’ him” The end of the alien’s sentence was dipped in reproach.

 

Keith flicked the flower back into the basket, grumbling something about guilt-trips. Lance’s looked between the two. “Well, he doesn’t need to worry because we’re on our way right now! Right, Keith?”

 

“Yeah. Just try and stop us.”

 

“I would not dare,” They said cheerfully. “I will leave you now. There are matters I must attend to. My blessings to you both, young masters. May your day be-“ The alien targeted their slender face at Lance “informative.”

 

With a flourish of their fancy cape-coat thing, Jarvirra lurched from their doorstep; making several paces before vanishing into thin air.

 

“Oh, so they’re magic.” Lance said dazedly “that’s cool.”

 

“Very magic.” Keith said distractedly, staring at the spot where the alien had vanished. “You can leave that on the counter.”

 

Lance recalled the weight of the basket in his hand. “Oh, yeah. I’ll do that.”

 

Walking back into the kitchen, he hauled the flowers onto the surface. The orange petals danced prettily at the movement.

 

As was the human want, Lance felt the intrinsic pull to smell them, but he caught himself. Should he really be smelling ritual flowers from a creepy alien?

 

Then again, Keith trusted them. And if Keith Kogane trusted someone, Lance could too.

 

He leaned forward and inhaled. It smelt…Odd. Not unpleasant, but not particularly floral. It was a heavy scent. One that seemed to travel directly into his head and rest behind his eyes.

 

He leaned away from the flowers, feeling disconcerted, and a little violated. He returned to the front door, where Keith stood waiting.

 

“You alright man? You still look a little off.”

 

“No, I’m fine. Just coming to terms with the fact that Alfalfi are probably going to become part of my nightmare-fuel for a while.”

 

“Drama queen.” Keith closed the door behind Lance and it sealed with the sound of a magnetic lock. “Hold up-“ Keith drew in a breath “Kosmo! We’re leaving!”

 

Not two seconds later, the gigantic wolf crackled into existence a few feet away from Keith. He looked ecstatic.

 

“He’s coming with us?”

 

“He’s taking us.”

 

“Oh.” Keith didn’t often use Kosmo’s abilities for general transport. Long-distance teleportation took a lot of energy and he preferred to let the wolf use it on his own terms outside of urgent situations. “They allow Kosmo in the temple?”

 

Keith grinned “Trust me, I’d get in more trouble for not bringing him.” He lay his hand against Kosmo’s mane. Lance did the same.

 

“Alright boy, let’s go to the temple.”

 

The end of Keith’s sentence was drowned out with a crackle as Kosmo complied. Lance’s vision was engulfed in white.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Though he’d experienced Kosmo’s teleportation before, the first few disorienting moments of re-establishing in the physical plane still threw Lance for a loop. He stumbled a little; holding tight to the soft fur.

 

Blinking away the dazzle of Kosmo’s sparkly cosmic residue, A staircase of deep black stone came into view. His eyes followed its path and he found himself staring at a gargantuan and ornately carved facade.

 

“Here it is,” Keith’s walked into view past Kosmo’s shoulder “The Daibazaal pantheon temple. Worship centre of all the collected gods, spirits, demons and saints throughout galran history.”

 

Lance simply nodded, taking in the sight before him. There were pearly statues lining the sides of the stairway. They resembled the general designs of the ones at the port, only far more in number and each was covered in offerings and incense. Many were being attended to by galra dressed in similar robes to their own. Some appeared to be conversing with the silent figures. Others were kneeling before them.

 

The symmetrical line of the statues drew the eye up to the maw of the main entry, above which was an immensely detailed relief. I depicted a flurry of scenes involving all manner of creatures interlaced and interacting with each other. A swirling stone menagerie of myth that he couldn’t begin to unwind. Though, a part of it looked familiar. A small segment to the right of the entry depicting two dog-like creatures…

 

“Nice carvings, huh? They’re still working on them. They stretch the whole way around the building.” Keith walked past him; signalling for them to ascend the lengthy path to the entrance. Lance followed suit; Kosmo tailing behind them.

 

“It’s incredible…I saw some of the pictures in the book you gave me but seeing it in person is just…Wow.” Lance laughed, not knowing why he was getting so giddy over architecture. He gestured towards the dog carvings “Isn’t that…”

 

“The same carving as the one on my mum’s door.” Keith sighed “That custom carved door was the first gift Anrei gave her. Said it keeps intruders and bad spirits from entering the home. It would have cost a fortune, too. The wood actually came from a venomous predatory tree, if you can believe it.”

 

“I will believe just about anything at this point. This morning I was given a welcome-to-planet flower hamper by an alien witch and we teleported here via dog.” Lance spoke dreamily, still following the elegant curves and ridges of the carvings. “So what’s so special about it?"

 

“Supposedly their wood is the finest ob the market and has magical properties. Also, it smells like peaches, which is nice.”

 

“ I meant the myth.”

 

“Oh. Well, it’s about these two cosmic wolves who protect their children, the stars, from being eaten by the night. One of the oldest Syrixian myths out there and my mum’s favourite as a kid. She said it was the first story she ever told me when I was a baby.”

 

Lance felt his heart clench. He imagined Krolia imparting such a story onto an infant Keith. How it must have shredded her to leave him. What it meant that she found him again, her own shining star in the chaotic darkness of her life.

 

“It’s kinda dumb, I know.”

 

“It’s not dumb, it’s sweet.” Lance said stubbornly He ruffled behind Kosmo’s ear affectionately when he poked his head between them “So I guess the Koganes just have a thing with wolves, huh?”

 

Keith snorted “Oh, you have no idea. Like I said, there's a reason I bring him along. He’s the reason my mother and Anrei met. The guy thinks…” Keith paused, looking thoughtful "Actually, you know what? You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

Lance groaned.

 

“Trust me, it’d just sound weirder coming from me.”

 

“Fine, but It better be worth walking up these stairs for. Couldn’t Kosmo have just zapped us to the top?” Lance had nearly tripped on his robe five times already.

 

“No. He likes to make a grand entrance.”

 

Lance gave Keith a dry look. The other man just inclined his head discreetly over his shoulder. He followed the motion and noticed that the other temple-goers on the stairway were staring. Some smiling and pointing. Not at them, but at Kosmo.

 

Lance put two and two together “They think he’s the cosmic wolf. One of the ones from the myths, right?”

 

Keith shrugged “Hey, maybe he is. I’m not going to blow this for him.”

 

Kosmo was trotting proudly behind them, soaking up the reverence.

 

It seemed ridiculous to someone who had seen the wolf play the role of inter-ship food transporter, but he supposed he could see the narrative here. A mysterious glowing wolf that can teleport crashes onto a comet in the quantum abyss where, by chance, the Black paladin of Voltron and his Blade leader mother happened to reside. Said wolf bonds with them and aids in the battle for the universe.

 

…Actually, yeah. That sounded like as worthy a myth as any to be inscribed upon the temple walls.

 

Keith smoothed a hand over Kosmo’s flank “He’s just a big show-off.”

 

His voice was steeped in casual affection. The kind that he had for Red. The kind he himself had for blue. Built upon trust and bonded with the thrill and terror of battle. Lance felt his features soften.

 

“That makes the two of you, hotshot.” The endearment came out way softer than he’d intended. The sound of their footsteps on the stone became deafeningly loud in the wake of his words.

 

Keith looked at him with an open inquisitiveness. Like one would look at an optical illusion. Then he smiled. A small, glinting gift of a thing. “Fair. I walked right into that one.”

 

Oh, how very soft Keith could look when he wanted to. How ridiculously gentle. How-

 

Lance’s saccharine musing was cut short when he suddenly vaulted forward, catching the fabric of his lower robe under his slipper-clad foot. Before he could smack his face on the nice, shiny stone of the temple steps, he was wrenched backwards by something snagging underneath his shoulder.

 

That something was Keith’s arm, which pulled him back against his chest with a thump. For a long moment they just stared at each other; stunned.

 

“Nice reflexes?” Lance squeaked. He could feel the press of Keith’s bicep against his arm. A little of his chest, too. God, had he always been that toned? And warm. He could feel the heat of his skin even through the thick cloth of their robes.

 

Keith exhaled, then smirked, “Thank you.” He hoisted Lance back to his footing. “Now try to keep upright. People will think I brought you here drunk.”

 

Thank god. An insult. This, Lance could handle. He unhooked his arm from Keith’s, brushing himself down in an effort to polish his tarnished dignity. “Laugh it up while you can, Keith. They’re going to be dazzled by my social grace.”

 

“And if they’re not?” Keith asked, continuing the upstairs trek. Lance followed, more cautious of the fabric swaying about him.

 

“Then it’s on you for being a lousy teacher. I can’t lose.”

 

“I hate that you’re right.”

 

They traversed the remaining steps, stopping intermittently so Kosmo could receive his fill of worship and cuddles. By the time they reached the top he had several bead chains and flowers braided into his mane. He wore them with his eyes bright and tongue lolling out happily.

 

The grand open arches of the entrance yawned before them. The perfect symmetry of the hall beyond led into the buildings shadowy depths like the throat of a great, petrified beast. At each side of the entry was situated a stone sentinel; two galran figures making a low hand gesture. He remembered it from Keith’s etiquette lessons. A far spanning gesture of ‘peace’.

 

It clashed a bit with the several heavily armed galran guards surrounding the entry.

 

“Is that normal?”

 

“No,” Keith said “armed guards aren’t usually posted here. they aren’t usually allowed here.”

 

“Will they give us any trouble?” The pantheon itself was already imposing enough. He didn’t need galran bouncers staring him down all day.

 

“I don’t think so. Nobody can be denied entry to worship. It’s probably just a precautionary measure.”

 

Sure enough, the guards made no move to bar them entry. They simply nodded in acknowledgement as they passed. Intimidating, but otherwise harmless. Lance let out the breath he was holding.

 

“I don’t like the looks of that,” Keith said once they were out of earshot “something must have happened.”

 

“And by ‘something’ you mean..?”

 

The other man’s eyes narrowed “Don’t know. But soldiers outside a temple is never a good sign.”

 

Lance recalled the security officer at the port mentioning something about increased security. Was that something to do with it? High traffic paranoia of a developing population?

 

“It’s probably not a big deal. Krolia would have told you if it was, right?” As a Blade of Marmora leader She was pretty high up in affairs of planetary security. Nothing worth mentioning would have slipped past her, surely.

 

Keith was silent for a moment.

 

“You’re probably right”

 

Before Lance could question him any further he cleared his throat “We’re passing the hall of saints, now. The Syrix sect is housed a little further up.

Lance nodded. Looking forward, the gigantic hall became dimmer and dimmer. Kosmo paced easily alongside them. His markings were vivid in the darkness and his bright yellow irises remained fixed ahead.

 

“You ok?”

 

He turned to Keith, alarmed at the concern in his tone. “Huh?”

 

There was a hesitance to Keith’s features, like he halfway regretted his question. “You’re…Uh” he gestured vaguely to his cheekbones “They look a little dim.”

 

“Do they?” Unconsciously, he raised a hand to the mark on his right cheek.

 

“…Do you feel ok?”

 

“I feel fine.” Lately, he’d been feeling better than he had in a long time. “Maybe it’s just the atmosphere or something?”

 

“If you’re sure,” a pause. Keith gave him searching look “But you’ll tell me, right? If all…This is too much for you?”

 

Lance blinked. “‘This?’”

 

“Daibazaal? My mum? Magic aliens and temples and ceremonies and etiquette?” Keith scratched the back of his head. Lance noticed the ever-so-faint alien glow of his eyes in the dimming hall. They were stormy with doubt.”I know it’s a lot, I just-”

 

“Dude,” Lance nudged his shoulder. The contact sent a jolt of warmth down his spine, but he recovered quickly “We fought in a war together. You really think I can’t handle this? The last year may have been slow for me, but come on. Have some faith.”

 

Keith laughed then. A quiet, beautiful little thing that Lance thought he might just lock away in his memory forever. “My faith in you has never faltered, Lance. I just didn’t know how you felt about…” Keith trailed of quietly

 

“…This?” Lance ventured.

 

“Hmm.” The hum of affirmation was almost lost in the vast empty space of the hall.

 

Lance looked down to Keith’s side, where his hand hung, swaying gently as he walked. It would be nice, he thought, to just slip his own between the other man’s digits. To feel the light callouses of his fingertips. warming the cold skin

 

He imagined Keith had cold fingers. He seemed like the type. Cold nose, too. He’d seen how it turned rosy when they had been on colder missions. That adorable grumpy frown adorned with pink cheeks. The way he would snap and growl out complaints to counterbalance his pitiful kitten sneezes.

 

His own face heated. This really was pathetic. He was in this ‘crush’ thing too deep and he was beginning to thing that he had been for…Shoot, maybe quite a while. Judging by the fantasies and flashbacks Keith’s deceptively innocent and oh-so-lonely hand was giving him.

 

A loud, muffled string of old galran stabbed through the still air, slamming Lance out of his hypnosis.

 

“We’re here,” Keith said dryly, eying the archway approaching on their right. He was completely oblivious to Lance’s woes. Good.

 

He followed Keith, who pushed through a lavish wooden door carved with elaborate winding patterns and unfamiliar symbols.

 

And not for the first time that day, Lance stared into a monstrous face.

 

Though, this one was made of deep blue-black stone. It depicted a creature Lance had never seen. A wolfish thing, with five tails spread behind it and four bestial arms. Two gripping the platform beneath it, and two holding unfamiliar tokens by its side in clawed hands. Its teeth were bared in a wicked smile and the detail of its eyes held wild glee.

 

The massive sculpture filled the far end of a hall adorned with a variety of deep blue banners and tapestries. Before it was a symmetrical arrangement of torches; each burning with a calm blue flame.

 

For Lance, the word ‘occult’ immediately sprang to mind. But hey, by this point he was just happy to be along for the ride.

 

“Good morning, master Keith. are you in need of assistance?”

 

Lance jumped at the sudden presence beside them. It was a galran women, smiling through a heavily tattooed face and beneath a blue hooded robe. She seemed to appear out of no where.

 

“Good morning, sister. I’m looking for Anrei.”

 

“His lordship will be with you shortly. He has been engaged in deep contemplation.”

 

As if on cue, another string of galran rang out from further down in the hall. The woman didn’t bat an eye.

 

“I see you have brought your lovely companion with you!” She breathed

 

Lance puffed up, preparing a charming response, only for her to walk right by him and cradle Kosmo’s big fluffy head in her bejewelled hands.

 

“Oh, my stars! Such a beautiful creature you are.” Kosmo keened happily, licking her cheek “Come, let's get you something to eat.”

 

She inclined her head to Lance in casual greeting and then strode away purposefully, disappearing into an adjoining chamber. Several other similarly cloaked figures that were loitering about followed her, as if magnetised.

 

“Ouch,” Lance said, watching them go.

 

Keith snickered.

 

“Don’t take it personally,” He gestured to the hall before them “these acolytes kinda have a thing for wolves, in case you hadn’t guessed.”

 

“Let me guess…Syrix?” Looking at the statue for a second time, Lance recognised the familiar scene at its feet. he’d seen it in one of Keith’s photo frames; where Keith had his picture taken with-”

 

“God of wealth and fortune!” Lance started as a heavy, clawed hand landed on his shoulder “patron of gamblers, vagabonds, bastards and all the lost and wayward.” He looked upwards behind him to see a huge, crescent moon of a smile “and surely by who’s grace I have the pleasure of meeting you this fine morning.”

 

“Hi, Anrei,” Keith said. “This is Lance.”

 

“Um,” Lance turned around to face the familiar galra man that had somehow appeared behind him, performing the appropriate short bow as Keith had demonstrated it “Nice to meet you, your lordship.”

 

Anrei made a broad, dismissive gesture “I’ll not accept such honorifics from any friend of Keith, Let alone a paladin of Voltron. It is simply Anrei, to you. And the honour is all mine.” He returned the bow elegantly. “I’ve heard so much about you,”

 

“Lance needs his robe measurements taken.” Keith said.

 

“Eager to get to the point as always, Keith.” Anrei’s grin faltered a little at Keith’s blunt tone. His red irises flicked to Lance. against the black sclera, they looked like twin lunar eclipses, split by slitted pupils. “ So, young man, are you prepared to enter into the finery of the Syrixian cult? To bear witness to our ancient crafts and mysteries?”“Uh…Yes?” He looked at Keith, who nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Of course you are!” The priest’s hand thumped enthusiastically between his shoulder blades, pitching him forward. He swept ahead of them. A long, black-banded tail ending in a crest of black fur swayed behind him. “Follow me.”

 

He and Keith trailed after him, leaving the main hall and venturing into a darker yet chamber. The walls were lined with rolls and piles of various fabrics and hundreds of in-built cupboards and lockers containing god knew what.

 

In the centre was a pedestal; dimly illuminated by a warm golden roof light. Anrei gestured toward it, looking at Lance “if you wouldn’t mind?”

 

Lance complied. Keith remained in the corner near the entry, leaning against a wooden cabinet and fiddling with the tassels of some kind of wall rug.

 

Anrei said something in old galran. Moments later the air tingled oddly and two more robed figures- ‘acolytes’, he assumed- appeared silently at his side; materialising like figures from invisible mist.

 

Teleportation. Of course. Of _course_ , they could teleport.

 

Another few sentences of the odd tongue and some vague gestures in his direction. The two figures- one galran and the other, Lance realised with a jolt- another Alfalfi— busied themselves in the fabric stacks, expertly retrieving an assortment of blue and black-toned articles.

 

“This won’t take long, Lance. We just need a few standard measurements. Ceremonial robes must always be crafted to suit the wearer.”

 

“Just watch yourself. I’ve come out of battles with less puncture wounds than my fitting gave me.” Keith advised.

 

“Perhaps if you could stay still for more than ten ticks, you could have spared yourself the pain,” Anrei said, not looking up from the tray of haberdashery he was picking through. “And speaking of tribulations, I need you to fetch something for me.”

 

“Beg your pardon?” Keith said, dropping the tassel.

 

“Twice now someone has stolen tericca oil from my personal store. I suspect it’s again the work of that colourful one you work with, the one with the invisibility trick. I hear she made good money selling my entire stock of silver root last movement.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

He met Keith’s cool stare “No one appreciates a good heist as much as I, but I will not stand for my work being interrupted. Furthermore, In the wrong hands these substances can be used to create dangerous things. That’s why we keep them regulated.”

 

“So why am I suffering for this?”

 

Keith had that look. The one that spooked the other kids at the Garrison. The one he wore that fateful moment before he punched James’ proverbial lights out.

 

(The one he personally could not resist to challenge).

 

Unfortunately for Keith, it didn’t seem to work in this instance.

 

“You will soon be their leader, won’t you?” Anrei said it like it should have been obvious “Their trespasses fall on your shoulders. Petty theft included.”

 

“My mum still outranks-”

 

“Krolia has enough to worry about.” Anrei paused momentarily to inspect a sheet of deep blue cloth one of the acolytes brought to his side. He murmured a few instructions and them waved them own Lance’s direction before focusing again on Keith. “Consider this a chance to assert your leadership. Reprimand your future charge before I do. In your own time. For now, I ask that you fetch me some more distilled tericca oil.”

 

“What, right now?”

 

“I don’t see why not. Not much else you can do for the moment.”

 

Keith looked between Anrei and Lance. The acolytes were hovering about the latter, armed with measuring tapes and dressmaking pins.

 

“Come now, Keith. I’m not going to eat him” chuckled Anrei. Lance didn’t really think that was a possibility but the verbal confirmation was nice.

 

Lance took in Keith’s suspicious glare. “It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Fine, I’ll get some tericca oil from the dispensary.”

 

“Distilled tericca oil.”

 

Keith grunted.

 

“Good lad!”

 

Pushing off of the wall, Keith walked out the way they had come in, leaving him in the room with the three aliens. The acolytes pinched at the draping fabric of his sleeves. One was taking notes on a palm-sized tablet.

 

Anrei stared at the chamber entry for a while after Keith left. His pointed ears angled forwards. When satisfied with whatever he was listening to he turned back to Lance.

 

“He’d be a lot more pleasant if you just kissed him, you know.”

 

The man’s voice was loud in the small room. Lance jolted, tearing his sleeve out of the grip of one of his dress attendants.

 

“What?”

 

Anrei repeated what he said, louder and slower.

 

“I’m not- I haven’t-” Lance reigned his wits in. The acolyte on his right tugged his sleeve back in place irritably. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Was that not something you’ve wondered?” Anrei picked something small off the tray and folded his arms innocently behind his back “I just figured it was, given your infatuation with holding his hand.”

 

Heat prickled the back of his neck. He couldn’t tell if his steadily increasing heart rate was from mortification or raw fear of whatever the hell was going on. He looked helplessly at the acolytes around him. They were nonplussed.

 

“How do you know that?” Best to cut to the chase. He’d seen enough bizarre alien shenanigans to know it was better not to try and rationalise it himself.

 

“binding through sister flowers.” He started pacing around the pedestal slowly, tail streaking behind him. Predatory. “That pollen you inhaled this morning knows your thoughts.” He pulled a single orange flower from within his robe “and so does its sister,” He passed it under his nose “and now, so do I. One of the oldest hexes in the tomes. Used it to cheat my way through advanced anaerobic biotoxicology, back in the day.”

 

More witchcraft. Fantastic.

 

“I wasn’t aware galra could do magic.”

 

“‘Do magic’?’” He laughed fondly, as if it were a quaint joke “The barriers to arcane knowledge are cultural, not biological. Any manipulator of quintessence knows that.”

 

Quintessence. Now that was a word he hadn’t heard for a while. The sharp consonants brought forth a wave of memories. Pulsating light. Cramped hallways in galra cruisers. Hooded figures and dark flashes. Alteans. Allura.

 

“I can assure you the ocean of possibility that is quintessential manipulation varies far beyond the parameters of the Altean princesses’ alchemy.”

 

Lance shook his head; willing the scenes out of his mind along with the pollen that was ratting him out. “so What, there's a galra wizard school or something?”

 

“I would be happy to discuss the diverse and turbulent history of galran arcane crafting with you some other time.” He gave the flower one more deliberate sniff before returning it to the folds of his robe and catching him in his intense gaze once more “but for now, let’s talk about you, shall we?”

 

“We could _not_ do that?” Lance was beginning to understand Keith’s reservations about this guy.

 

“You adore him,” Anrei stated.

 

“He’s my friend.”

 

“You utterly treasure him.”

 

“I -he’s just-” It was too hot under the roof light. Way too hot.

 

“Oh, to be so young. So ensnared by infatuation.”

 

Anrei had stalked behind him. Lance tried to shift to follow with his gaze, earning him a sharp stab in the side with a dressing pin. “Ow!”

 

He glared at the acolyte responsible. She glared back.

 

“And to only realise it at such a sensitive time. How funny love can be.”

 

The word hit Lance’s chest like a well-aimed spear. He stuttered. What was he supposed to say?

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The sentence wobbled; held up on a shaky scaffolding of self-doubt.

 

Sure, he had a crush. He’d admit that much.

 

But _love_?

 

That wasn’t on the cards. No way.

 

Anrei had reappeared in his periphery. There was pity written on his features.

 

“I saw your mind, boy. I know. Even if you favour denial, _I know_.”

 

Lance winced. He wanted the ground to swallow him up. Or Kosmo to zap him somewhere far away. This was ridiculous. Totally uncalled for.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Lance pleaded “I don’t even know you.”

 

“Keith was hesitant to ask you to join him for his ceremony, you know.” The galra made himself comfortable against a tall stack of linen, tail twitching pensively at his side. “He was so frightened you’d say no. Or that you’d agree and then decide you did not…enjoy his company.”

 

“That's…What? Why wouldn’t I enjoy his company? And what does that have to do with my- with me?”

 

Anrei rubbed his eye tiredly. Lance got the impression he wasn’t catching on as fast as the priest would like.

 

“Honestly son, how can you have gotten to this point,” He gestured broadly at him “and not have realised that Keith is completely smitten with you?”

 

Lance gaped.

 

Anrei continued as if Lance hadn’t interrupted him “So of course, imagine my relief to find out his feelings are reciprocated.” Anrei held a hand to his heart. He was smiling serenely, totally ignoring Lance’s meltdown.“ Finally, some good news after all the chaos of the last few movements.”

 

“Ok, hold up!” Lance forwent raising his arms dramatically in fear of more stabbing “You can’t just…Just… _Say_ stuff like that. Things like this aren’t any of your business. And I don’t appreciate people rifling through my head!”

 

His voice sounded squeakier than he’d hoped, but he managed to fix the man with a glare. This had to count as a violation of privacy or something.

 

Lance expected Anrei to laugh at his denial. To tease him for his blushing and fumbling. What he didn’t expect was for him to be giving him a cold stare.

 

“None of my business?” A beat of silence. He gave a low hum.

 

Lance’s glare faltered.

 

“You know, I’d barely heard anything about Voltron or the princess’s return. Such was the cost of protective isolation, living out on the fringes, we learned not to lean on feeble hopes. Not to expect miracles. Least of all ones in the shape of lions and driving through the heart of the empire. What little we did hear sounded too good to be true, so we assumed it was.”

 

“And you know the rest better than I. The empire is lain low. The battle for realities is won. An Altean princess gives her life force for the universe. The planet of my forbears is restored. And after thousands of decaphoebs of scrabbling on the fringes and fighting just to stay alive, we were offered something many of us doubted we’d ever find - a home.”

 

The priest nodded in Lance’s direction as if acknowledging that he’d shut the window to prevent a draught “thanks for that, by the way.”

 

“No problem,” Lance said cautiously, not sure where this was going.

 

“So I get here, start channelling a few million citizens into temporary housing. Set up a makeshift apocethary and lend my skills to the efforts while things calm down.” Anrei was gesturing casually, as one might with a friend over coffee “and then one day I’m overseeing construction of my sect, and I find myself pinned to the ground by the most incredible creature.”

 

“Keith…Tackled you?” Sounded like something Keith would do. Lance was actually having similar temptations at the moment.

 

“No. The wolf. Kosmo”

 

“Oh.”

 

“It is said in the first age that Syrix sent messengers to the physical plane in the shape of ethereal wolves in order to guide them and teach them the secrets of the arcane arts” Anrei flourished his arms in supplication, his black claws glinting in the low light “and so there I was; being licked repeatedly by a holy envoy.”

 

Lance nodded. He’d seen a planet-sized space vortex caused by a magical lion spirit. Magic space wolves? Why not. It was just easier not to question these things.

 

“You’ve seen the light demon of the Patrulian zone and _lived_? My, you have had some adventures, haven’t you?”

 

Ah, The mind magic thing. He’d forgotten.

 

“Stop that!” Lance laid a palm protectively on his head as if it would somehow help “And it wasn’t a demon, it was a guardian spirit.”

 

“Guardian, Demon…Not sure it makes much difference to the three hundred and forty-eight exploratory vessels that carked it there over the last Millenium.”

 

Oh, so that’s what all those ‘unworthy’ shipwrecks around Oriande were. Yikes.

 

“Yikes indeed.”

 

Lance grumbled.

 

“As I was _saying_ ,” He shuffled his ears self-importantly, as if Lance had been the one to interrupt “The wolf, under extraordinary circumstances, belonged to Keith, who belonged to Krolia, who- a long time and likely a few names ago- belonged to my very same cult.”

 

Anrei drew out a sentimental sigh “I should have known from the beginning. Such rash disregard for authority, the uncanny ability to survive against towering odds…These are the marks of those Syrix takes into their thrall.”

 

Anrei looked like an actor poised to burst into song. Lance decided he didn’t want that to happen, so he drew the topic backwards.

 

“So let me get this straight. You’re pally with Keith because of his magic pet wolf which you believe is your god’s messenger boy?”

 

“There are some signs that are hard to ignore. After all, My great lord doesn’t bestow such blessings trivially."

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“You doubt me. That’s fair, I can’t expect everyone to share my beliefs.” Anrei folded his arms and flashed a toothy grin “Would it be more palatable to say that I’ve grown quite fond of Krolia’s scruffy kid and I don’t want to see him get hurt?” He shrugged “Because this is also true.”

 

“I would never hurt Keith.” Just the insinuation threw a menacing bite into Lance’s voice.

 

“I know, but you can’t always protect someone from a broken heart. Not even I can rectify unreciprocated love.” He tilted his head thoughtfully “not on any permanent basis.”

 

Lance winced again. That word pulsed in him like the aftershocks of an impact.

 

“But my fears are assuaged! So next time you see him, why don’t just give him a big hug and tell him how much you like his…hand, or whatever. No time like the present, as you humans say.”

 

“Still not seeing how this is your business.” Lance’s response was choked slightly by a measuring tape tightening around his chest.

 

“I’m sure you’re aware the galra have something of an image problem in the intergalactic landscape. Having Keith represent us- as a galran hybrid, Blade operative and the former leader of Voltron is no small blessing. You put it quite succinctly, once. How did it go?” He made a circular motion with his hand, reeling back a memory “I think he’s, like, the future.”

 

“…How?” Lance started. Then he stopped. He’d really didn’t want to know how far this guy had dug into his mind. He changed tack. “He’s not some kind of trump card for your politics. He’s a person. He deserves more than that.”

 

“He has a place in the most prestigious ranks of the new galran order. He’ll never want for money. His name is honoured and his deeds will be remembered for as long as this civilisation stands…”

 

“That’s not good enough.” He lost so much to get where he is. So much was taken for him  
“He deserves-”

 

“-To be loved. For who he is. For all his strengths and flaws.”

 

Lance said nothing.

 

Anrei smiled.

 

“Then how lucky he is is to have someone like you.”

 

Lance snapped his mouth shut.

 

The priest cleared his throat “-His mother too, of course. But am I right in thinking that is a very different type of love than yours?”

 

“Something tells me,” Lance ground out “That he wouldn’t be so happy about you sharing this information with me.”

 

“Don’t worry, he won’t find out.” Anrei leaned forward and pricked him swiftly with a dressing needle.“Ow! What was that for?” Lance jerked back on reflex. One of the acolytes sighed impatiently. A tiny sphere of blood welled up from the stab site on his wrist.

 

Instead of answering, the galra fished what looked like an oyster shell out of a deep pocket on the side of his robe and placed the pin side it before snapping it shut. He held it close to his face and whispered something. Enclosed in the clawed hand, It disappeared back into his pocket.

 

“For now what we have discussed in this room stays with me,” He said. “In one dobash, Keith will return with my distilled tericca oil, In two your measurements will be completed, and shortly after, the dignitaries will arrive so we can all go through the ceremony procedures together.”

 

Lance knew Anrei wanted him to ask what that meant, and what magical nonsense he had just pulled, So he didn’t. “You’re a really bad priest, you know that?”

 

“Consider yourself lucky for the free service. If I were a less principled man I could make good money selling my mystic insight.”

 

“Mystic insight?” Lance snorted “You just read my thoughts.” he realised how screwed up his life had become that genuine mind reading was considered unimpressive.

 

“I wouldn’t need to if you weren’t so lousy at reading your own,” he sniffed, “now which do you prefer; entwined floral, or runic weave?”

 

The Alfalfi beside Lance’s was holding two cloth samples with intricate embroidery “I don’t care?”

 

Anrei motioned to one of them, the acolyte nodded and swept them away. “Speaking of ‘mind-reading’, I should tell you that you’re not imagining it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Those marks are fading.”

 

A fresh wave of discomfort rippled over Lance.

 

“Probably for the best,” Anrei said “It’s not healthy to hold foreign energies in your body for long periods of time. It does things to you.” He tapped at the corner of his eye. His black sclera shone ominously.

 

“What do you know about these marks?”

 

“Not much. Never really had the time for Altean crafts, not enough physical anchorage. And their preserved texts on the subject read like romantic prose. Bad romantic prose.” He said sourly.

 

“Would you,” Lance cleared his throat “would you have any idea why she…Why Allura gave them to me?”

 

“I could theorise how. Neither quintessence transfer nor altering appearance are particularly novel concepts for those with arcane prowess,” He gave Lance a pitying look “but as to _why_ I could not say. I’m sorry.”

 

And he was. It was the most genuine expression Lance had felt from him yet.

 

He must have looked pretty miserable because Anrei seemed inclined to continue. “It may have been unintentional on her part; a sort of sympathetic transference. It is hard to accept, but not everything happens for a reason.”

 

“Says the man of faith.” Lance laughed. It was hollow.

 

“You know, theologians through the interstellar age have theorised that beings we call gods and demons are simply trans-reality beings that slip through into our own reality. They don’t abide by our natural laws or conceptions of right or wrong. They just coddle us like pets, giving us gifts and prizes - or torture with us like children pulling appendages off of insects. Sometimes both.”

 

“Well that’s pretty grim. Thanks for sharing.”

 

“Says the war veteran.” He winced “It’s awful that I can say that to a child…”

 

“I’m nearly twenty-one!”

 

Anrei winced harder, ears flattening. “My point is that not all forces in this universe must sway you. Sometimes it is wisest to follow your own instinct, not spend your time analysing the mysteries and intents of others.”

 

“You literally just said how Syrix sent you an omen in the shape of Kosmo.”

 

“Yes. But I have thousands of decaphoebs of experience in the field of premonition and prognostics. It’s a complex art, and one you have no business in partaking in.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes at his pious tone. Anrei flicked a thimble at his head.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Moreover, a true omen has one purpose; to offer an illuminated path, a way forward, and this,” A clawed fingertip poked at his mark “has done nothing but keep you standing right where you are.”

 

Lance felt strangely detached from himself at that moment. He should have been furious, right? Who the hell was this guy? He’d done nothing but hassle him since Keith left. Worming into his consciousness and hauling up painful memories like they were the catch of the day. It was outrageous, and yet…He was hollow. The scathing words thrummed through him as offensively as his own blood. Was this part of the man’s witchcraft? Some kind of supernatural drug?

 

No, Lance realised, it was much worse than that.

 

He _agreed_ with him.

 

“Most people do in the end,” Anrei responded to his thought softly “It’s an easy win for me because I just tell them things they already know.”

 

He rolled another thimble absently between his thumb and forefinger “now, a more intriguing question would be 'why are they disappearing now?’” Because if you are asking my professional opinion, I think you simply don’t need them anymore.”

 

Lance wanted to say that he’d never needed them, but the priest probably saw enough to know it was a lie. The comfort they provided him in those numb days following the war’s end had been a lifeline. “It’s weird. Shouldn’t I be sad about it? I just feel…I don’t know. But not sad.”

 

“Not ‘weird’ at all. It is the nature of living things to heal and grow. You’ve simply,” He waved a hand, dismissing his concerns like mildly annoying insects “outgrown your old self.”

 

The words were so simple. Lance wondered if the last year of his life-the silence, the stillness, the waiting for something- Could really be summarised so easily.

 

“As for Keith’s sluggishness, my mama-may Syrix immortalise her glory- had a saying; “The slower you pull out a dagger, the quicker you dodge the next one.””

 

Lance snorted “That is so galran.”

 

Another thimble to the head.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Do not profile my honourable mother as an empire reprobate, furless milk-drinker.”

 

Lance glared, but ducked his head. That was fair.

 

“Point being, Keith’s rather intense relationship with the concept of love makes him wary about dispensing it. From what I’ve learned that particular dagger has been drawn out over a long time. He’s really putting himself out on a limb in courting you, lad.”

 

Lance squirmed. It’s not that the wasn’t aware of Keith’s trust issues but hearing it in this intimate context was…God.

 

“Do you have to use the word ‘courting’? That’s so…Ugh”

 

“‘courting’ appears to be the word favoured by your universal translator to convey my meaning, but if it makes you uncomfortable I could try some similes,” He twitched his ears thoughtfully "wooing, charming, enticing, pursuing a romantic relationship with… Are any of these more appropriate?”

 

“Oh my god, stop.”

 

Anrei chuckled. It sounded less ominous than before “there are as many ways to love someone, and to show that love, as there are gods in the cosmos. Stop agonising. Just do what you feel is correct. That is what I told Keith.”

 

“Keith came to you for advice on his love life?”

 

“No, I’m just that kind. To ease the suffering of others is my calling.”

 

“I genuinely would not have guessed.”

 

Anrei laughed, thumping him, once again, too hard between the shoulder blades “You are a good man. I am glad Keith has chosen you to court.”

 

He side-eyed the galra “I’m still angry that you hacked into my head with cursed pollen.”

 

“Naturally. It was very rude of me.” He gave a lazy grin “It’ll wear off soon, I promise.”

 

“…So What would you have done if I didn’t…” Lance felt his face heat again. Damn close-range lights. “If you weren’t happy with what you saw in my mind, about Keith?”

 

Anrei tipped his head to one side. Then the other. His earrings sounded like tiny wind-chimes.“I guess we’ll never know, son. But you’d not be invited to any of my cult bake sales, that’s for bloody sure.”

 

“Right.”

 

A comfortable silence descended, punctured only by the soft shuffling of fabric.

 

“I can officiate weddings.”

 

Lance looked at him tiredly. The sound of approaching footsteps floated quietly through the chamber.

 

“Just so you know.”

 

Moments later, Keith entered the space carrying a small crystalline container and an air of boredom. Lance watched him carefully as he complained to the priest about overcomplicated stock request forms.

 

“Don’t worry, sunshine.” The Alfalfi acolyte on his left said. Their voice was hushed and their eerie eyes shone with mirth. “We’ll make you look great for him.”

 

If Lance wasn’t still terrified of their barbed-wire mouth, he would have told them to shut up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rehearsal was stressful, as Keith had warned him it would be. Though, not for the reasons he would have predicted.

 

Because he had arrived on Daibazaal later than expected- which was entirely Keith’s fault- this rehearsal was being held exclusively for his benefit. something Keith only told him minutes before it began.

 

Which is why the entire time he tried to avoid eye contact with the several galran dignitaries that had been pulled from their morning duties to attend a rehearsal they had already undergone.

 

The head of interplanetary communications looked especially grumpy about this. He narrowed his eyes dangerously every time Anrei insisted on repeating a certain gesture or spoken passage.

 

Which he did. A lot.

 

Lance watched him command the smartly dressed galra to walk up and down the sect aisles with varying pace speeds, enunciate permissions with a plethora of tones and organise themselves in a height order that seemed to only make sense to the priest himself.

 

All the while, he and Keith actually did very little. It took about twenty minutes to go through his memorised lines and practice the blessing and passing on of his new blade (represented by an empty sheath - he real one was not to be revealed until the ceremony).

 

All Lance had to do was stand nearby and bow to the dignitaries as they walked past. Why this needed a whole new rehearsal requiring the galra upper-crust to practice was beyond him. Anrei had assured him it was necessary so he’d leave it at that.

 

He really didn’t want to talk to him any longer than necessary. Not with Keith present.

 

Fortunately, Lance was afforded the small mercy of being placed out of earshot of his companion, allowing him some time to calm the flurry in his head.

 

As a form of meditation, he just stood there, memorising the interior of the sect. Watching the odd worshipper walk to the foot of the deity statue to pray or leave an offering. Listening to the faraway sound of alien singing and the muffled footfalls echoing around the high ceiling.

 

-Occupying himself with anything that wasn’t Keith, really.

 

It was surprisingly hard to do, and he realised how frequently the other man haunted his mind. Like a fly’s insistent buzzing, but instead of annoying him it made him go all soft at the knees.

 

Despite himself, he glanced over at the half-galra. He was standing tall, with his hand behind his back. His eyes were closed in a way that brought attention to the gentle sweep of his lashes. The darkness of them barely grazed the pale rosiness of his cheek…

 

…Oh, for the love of God.

 

Lance swiftly averted his gaze. This was getting way out of control.

 

The worst part was he didn’t even feel bad about it.

 

Well, he didn’t really have to now.

 

Keith liked him, after all.

 

 _Keith liked him_.

 

There was something brewing in his chest. Something inescapable. Like a coming storm that had him electrified and anxious. A mess of emotions that all vied for his attention.

 

And in it all, he couldn’t suppress the huge smile that dawned upon his face

 

Keith liked him.

 

…

 

Maybe even _loved_ him

 

“That’s the spirit young Lance!” Anrei’s booming voice tore through his daydream.

 

The smile dropped off of Lance’s face.

 

All the dignitaries were staring at him. He looked to his side. Keith’s eyes were now open, directing a quizzical look his way.

 

The priest shot a reprimanding look over the esteemed guests “Now why can’t you lot look that excited? This is a celebratory event, after all.”

 

Lance spent the remainder of the rehearsal looking pointedly at his shoes, hoping his blush was lost in the blue tinge of the torch light.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”

 

“Was it really necessary to get them to spell out the oath of honour letter by letter?”

 

“It was so long as they kept stumbling over those vowels. Enunciation, My friend! The god’s don’t listen to mumblers.”

 

Keith watched the head of planet-side infrastructure exit out the sect’s main door, slamming it behind her with a little too much force. “This is why you don’t have any friends.”

 

Anrei nudged Keith with his elbow, bearing a smile that looked way too much like the one on the statue behind them “did you see the look on Professor Ilk’s face near the end there when I handed you the sheath? I thought he was actually going to go for my throat this time.”

 

Keith bit back the traitorous smile that was pulling at his mouth. He refused to encourage him. he turned to Lance, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. “Sorry, lance. That went way longer than it should have.”

 

Lance looked at him. That is to say, he looked around him, just shy of meeting his eyes. “It’s fine! I thought it was fine. I liked the part where you got the knife… Blade.”

 

Before Keith could answer Anrei laid a heavy hand on lance’s shoulder “Just wait until you see the real thing. Those luxite artisans never fail to deliver. ‘shines like the crystal storms of Hira-Mai.”

 

“Right…” Something was definitely off here. He looked at Lance, thinking of how many things could have gone wrong during the time he was on his fetch quest “How did the fitting go? he wasn’t being weird, was he?”

 

“Nope. Totally normal.”

 

“We just chatted about Earth things. His family sounds very charming. He should bring them here one day when all this security nonsense is sorted out.” the galra patted Lance’s shoulder, and his flinch was not subtle “I’d love to have them around for a sermon or two.”

 

Keith nodded slowly. He didn’t much like the idea of any of Lance’s perfectly nice and (mostly) normal family being within a ten foot radius of Anrei. And the sermons featuring the patron god of gambling weren’t always tasteful to uninitiated ears. “speaking of security, why are there armed guards outside the pantheon?”

 

“Oh, that. nothing to be alarmed about. Just the warden’s overactive imagination. You know how she is when she visits.”

 

“Will they be there long?” The pantheon was kind of a talking point among early access visitors on the planet. If pictures of armed guards in public spaces started circulating it wouldn’t bode well for future trade and tourism.

 

Keith winced internally. He really was starting to sound like his mother.

 

“I’d imagine they’ll be on duty until she returns to her outpost, after your ceremony.”

 

Keith gave a disapproving growl.

 

“Well, by all means, try and change her mind! You’d have a better chance at it than I.”

 

“You’re her priest!”

 

“And you’re her favourite little nephew. There’s no competition.”

 

An excited gasp sounded from his side. “Krolia has a sister? You have an aunt?”

 

Keith gave Lance an exasperated look “I told you I had a cousin.” Oh well. At least he seemed to have snapped out of his quiet episode.

 

Lance shrugged, “I know. It’s just weird to hear it.” He seemed to reflect on the concept for a moment before snickering “little nephew Keith.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, wondering again why he’d fallen for this man.

 

Bt then Lance laughed at his own dumb musings and the sound made a little obnoxious thing flutter in his chest and…Yeah that was why. Shit.

 

“Well, do take it up with her when you get the chance. I don’t particularly like them being there either. This is the Daibazaal pantheon not the bloody Blade of Marmora HQ.”

 

The name dripped off Anrei’s tongue with contempt. Keith decided to change the subject, he didn’t want to get started on this tirade again.

 

“I’ll talk to her if I can.” Lance was looking between them, clearly trying to piece together the subtext here. “Lance and I better get going. Stuff to do.”

 

“So soon?”

 

“We’ve been here five vargas.”

 

“Really? How time flies. Sister Soan! Bring in the wolf, please!” Shortly after he croaked the instruction in old galran, the acolyte materialised by his side, Kosmo in tow. As usual, he returned with an immaculately combed, shiny coat and content sleepiness in his eyes.

 

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Keith said. Kosmo trotted behind him, nuzzling into the back of his jaw. He smelled like floral perfume.

 

“It is my pleasure as always master Keith.” She nodded at Lance and Anrei “Master Lance. Your lordship.” In a blink, she was gone.

 

Anrei turned to face Keith and Lance “I’ll bid you two farewell for today. Keith, I will see you tomorrow for purification. And Lance, I’ll see you at the ceremony. Your robes will be delivered tomorrow morning. My acolytes are as swift as they are talented.”

 

Lance simply nodded in response. Anrei narrowed his focus to Keith, pulling a tan envelope out of one of his pocket and handing it to him “And Keith, would you would be so kind as to give this to your mother?”

 

He winked at Keith, who frowned, wishing he’d never explained that gesture to him.

 

“And now thanks to you, I can continue with apothecarist duties,” He patted his chest over the internal pocket where he’d stowed the vial “I’ve heard tell of a pre-school in the Fara district harassed by a stubborn sinus infection.” He gave a short bow “Syrix’s fortune be on your side, kids. Might I suggest a stroll in the municipal gardens down the road? Lovely weather for it.”

 

He’d barely finished the sentence before vanishing like his acolyte before him. He, Lance and Kosmo were left alone under the mad eyes of Syrix’s idol.

 

“Ok, what did he say to you?”

 

Lance stared at him. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Nothing.”

 

“He didn’t say…anything?”

 

“No. I mean yes! He did say things. But just small talk and prayers and priestly…stuff.” Lance offered him a not-quite-so-easy smile before turning to head back to the main hall. “Nice guy. Interesting.”

 

After a suspicious pause, Keith followed his lead “I guess.”

 

Lance cleared his throat “Cool place as well. In a new age, goth fusion kinda way.”

 

“So you’re okay with the whole ‘cult’ thing?”

 

“Mostly. I mean, not to be, like, blasphemous or whatever,” Lance inclined his head towards the statue, his hair being ruffled by Kosmo’s sniffing “but that thing freaks me out.”

 

Keith chuckled “They’re supposed to be good luck, but I can see where you’re coming from.”

 

“They look like a demon. And what’s all this about Kosmo being Syrix-spawn or something? He looks way cuter than them,” Lance flung his arms around the wolf’s neck in a pathetic attempt at a headlock, being dragged effortlessly by his pace and halfway disappearing into his fur “don’t you, fluff?”

 

Kosmo stared at Keith with a lazy sort of satisfaction. He berated himself for feeling a tinge of jealousy.

 

“I’ve heard there are worse gods to meet out there,” He drawled “Hell, I’d rather Syrix than the deity we did have the pleasure of meeting.”

 

Lance lifted his head out of Kosmo’s mane, eyes lighting up with the memory “Oh yeah. Bob.” He wrinkled his nose in a way Keith found unfairly cute “That guy sucked. What was his problem with me, anyway?”

 

“Anrei said some gods just have a stick up their ass.”

 

“Didn’t Coran say he was a judge of heroism or something?”

 

“I think Anrei’s explanation was more apt.”

 

“Agreed. Please don’t tell me this place has a Bob cult or something.”

 

“Hell no.”

 

Lance looked visibly relieved. It shouldn’t have been surprising. He had had a particularly bad time during that cosmic stint. And even so…

 

“I never thanked you, did I? For that stuff you said back there.”

 

“What stuff?” Lance looked genuinely out of the loop as if his decision hadn’t been made to decide whether or not he lived an eternity of extra-dimensional imprisonment.

 

“You know, for voting for my freedom. And how you said I was the future. It was nice of you. So,” He managed to hold Lance’s gaze for a moment and offered a small smile “Thank you.”

 

Lance nodded “You’re welcome.” There was an oddly calm look on his face. For a short span, they walked through the dark hall in silence.

 

“I thought I was going to pick Allura.”

 

Keith’s eyesight was best in dim light. If he were fully human, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the slight tenseness in his jaw. The way his throat worked after talking. “I thought you were going to pick her, too. I think we all did.”

 

He left the statement suspended in the air, hoping it didn’t sound too desperate for an answer. Every moment of silence after rang like a phantom frequency.

 

“But I said your name. It’s like my head was saying one thing but my…Gut, or something made me say something else?” Lance seemed irritated with his own explanation like he was trying to describe the texture of smoke or the shape of sunlight. Something entirely intangible.

 

Slowly, as if he would startle his own conclusion into flight, he lifted his gaze, trapping Keith with deep, dark blue “Instinct. It was like an instinct.”

 

Keith had…Not expected that answer. He cleared his throat. “Well, you were the red paladin,” he started vaguely “instinct is Red’s whole ‘thing’. Maybe that rubbed off on you a little.”

 

“Keith, I think we both know that the red paladin's ‘instinct’ thing was just code for ‘acts like a reckless dumbass but somehow still survives’,” He shot Keith challenging look “and if I learned that, it wasn’t from the lion.”

 

Keith quirked an eyebrow “Are you calling me a bad influence?”

 

“Oh no, that’s already been established. I’m calling you a dumbass.”

 

“-calling both of us dumbasses.”

 

Lance waved his hand dismissively “ I just…It just felt like the right thing to do. Picking you. I meant what I said and I still stand by it.”

 

Kosmo subtly paced closer to Keith’s side. It was something he often did when his master’s heart rate began to accelerate. It was pretty pathetic, Keith thought, that he had to employ combat breathing exercises just to keep his cool around his crush.

  

“That thing I said about not wanting to spend an eternity with you.” Keith stroked the smooth fur of Kosmo’s head- another calming tactic, “I didn’t mean that.”

 

“Aww, so you _do_ want to spend eternity with me?”

 

Keith’s cheeks burned at the prospect “I mean I chose you because I trusted you to take care of the team and keep everyone together. You were always better at that than I was so…Yeah. ”

 

Lance smiled at him. It was so very soft and made his heart wobble annoyingly. “-still wrestling with that teen Keith ‘nobody-look-at-my-emotions’ thing back then, huh?"

 

“I panicked”

 

Lance laughed then. Actual full-on barks that echoed obscenely through the pantheon halls, earning him bemused stares from a pair of passing galra. “You’d take on hordes of alien soldiers with nothing but a knife but admitting you thought I was kind of neat? That’s what scared you?”

 

“Hey! Talking openly about feelings is hard for me, Ok? It’s not easy exposing yourself like that. Especially in front of someone you-” Keith bit back the end of his sentence “someone you respect so much.”

 

Lance looked at him for an agonisingly long moment, searching for…Something. Whether or not he found it Keith wasn’t sure, because he swiftly reverted back to his smarmy self “You’re really laying it on thick today, buddy. Truly, I’m getting all mushy inside.”

 

Keith could relate. It was torture.

 

“Why is that? What horrible pre-ceremony tradition are you coercing me into?” Purification’. That’s what tall, dark and freaky said, right? Sounds painful.”

 

“That’s just for me. It’s just a day-long fast starting midnight followed by a fancy salt bath at the sect tomorrow. I’m supposed to reflect on my ‘personal journey’ before the event.”

 

“So tomorrow you’re going to be at the sect all day?”

 

“mostly, yeah.”

 

Lance flung his arms out “The hell am I supposed to do?”

 

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

 

Lance sighed “you really didn’t plan this trip at all, did you?”

 

Keith looked at his sandals, face hot. He’d stressed so much about getting lance to this planet, the thought of planning activities for when they arrived just seemed so secondary at the time.

 

“You’re on a brand new planet, Lance. I’m sure you can find something to do for half a day.”

 

It was lame reasoning and Keith knew it. His mother had organised a whole itinerary for Shiro…

 

“You could catch up with Shiro? I think he’s going to the Eftriff breeding compound tomorrow.”

 

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

 

“It’s like a big horse-tiger thing. They’ll let you ride them.”

 

“Eh, I think I might pass on that. I rode a horse once and swore off it for all time. I’ll see Shiro at the ceremony anyway.” Lance scratched behind his ear thoughtfully “Maybe I could just stay in while you’re gone. Try to make some calls back home? My parents are probably wondering how I’m doing…”

 

“Yeah, that should be fine.” Keith mentally kicked himself. Of course Lance wanted to contact his family. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “you can use my personal line. Planetary security shouldn’t bother you that way. They can be pretty annoying with outgoing transmissions.”

 

“Thanks man. If I don’t check in soon they’ll probably have Veronica and Pidge break into the Garrison’s encrypted communication system just to make sure I’m still eating breakfast.”

 

Keith grinned “Veronica and Pidge did that ages ago. How else do you think your sister keeps in touch with Acxa?”

 

The scandalised noise Lance made was priceless.

 

“I expect that behaviour from Pidge, but…No actually I should have expected that from Veronica too. Everyone I know is a crook. You’re all terrible.” Lance narrowed his eyes “I just don’t get why they haven’t tried to contact me already.”

 

“Maybe they’re trying to give you some privacy?”

 

“C’ mon man, you’ve met my family.” He sighed “So, Veronica really does have a thing for your Blade buddy then, huh?”

 

“They’re pretty close. Acxa’s more open with her than anyone else, for sure.”

 

“Seriously, is there something about being galra that people just find inherently attractive?”

 

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

 

Keith relished in Lance’s short facial journey from mild confusion to foot-in-mouth regret.

 

To his credit, he recovered quickly

 

“Well, you’re not unattractive. I mean, you could stand to wash your hair more than once a week but, like, objectively you’re not…I mean you look…Nice.”

 

Keith tried to reign in the giddy bubbling in his chest. Lance was complimenting his appearance. Every word seemed to be causing him some kind of physical grief, but he was complimenting his appearance.

 

And while he wouldn’t consider himself a ‘flirt’ as such, he was a serial opportunist, and Lance was just making the picking way too easy. “Well, who could say?,” he pondered airily “hell, maybe there’s something about the McLains that attracts Galra?”

 

Keith wasn’t quite game enough to look Lance in the eye while he spoke, but he saw the other man flinch in his periphery’

 

“I…”

 

Beside Keith, Kosmo let out a whine, eyes fixed ahead.

 

“What’s wrong, boy?” Keith followed Kosmo’s gaze to the Grand arches of the main entry. The light streaming in silhouetted three tall figures. Two of them he instantly recognised as the armed guards from when they entered. They were standing menacingly over a shorter figure, barring them from entering.

 

“I don’t suppose they’re having a friendly chat?” Lance asked.

 

Keith groaned “This is ridiculous.” He picked up his pace, hearing Lance’s sandal’s scuff the stone floor as he did the same. “Hey. Hey!”

 

He was close enough to see all three figures turn to face him. The shorter one he could identify as an Alfalfi. One he knew, in fact.

 

“Hello again, masters Keith and Lance.” Jarvirra blinked all three of their eyelids“ I see you have finished with your rehearsal. All went well, I assume.” They seemed unfazed by the guards’ presence, looking as serene as an Alfalfi’s gristle-pile of a face could manage.

 

“Yeah, we’re fine, thanks” Keith turned to the taller of the two guards “what the hell are you doing? Let them in.”

 

The guard gave him a cool stare “we’re screening visitors for possible threats. This Alfalfi refuses to show us the contents of their case.” He gestured to the silver carrier that contrasted starkly with the heavy blue robes of its handler. “I can’t let them in under the order’s of-“

 

“The warden herself. I know, and I don’t care. They have a right to enter."

 

That seemed to break their calm facade “Listen, kid, I don’t know who you think you are, but-”

 

“-I’m Keith.”

 

No response.

 

“The former black paladin of Voltron?”

 

No response. Lance shifted slightly closer to his side, as if getting ready to haul him out of punching range. Bless him.

 

Keith sighed. He withdrew his ID from the inner pocket of his robe “…The warden's nephew?”

 

That got a response. The taller guard scrutinised the small card and shared a look with his partner. It communicated something along the lines of ‘play nice. This twerp could end our career.’

 

When tall guard looked back at Keith, his expression was considerably less hostile “Keith Kogane, Sir.” He bowed, flashing the pink and white insignia atop his shoulder armour. A dead giveaway of his loyalties “We were placed her to record any suspicious activity. The warden has concerns as to possible security threats, especially surrounding your ceremony not two quintants away, sir.”

 

“ _Threats_?” Lance looked at Keith, incredulous “who’s threatening you?”

 

“Nobody is threatening me,” Keith made sure to keep his voice level as he pinned the towering guard with his most commanding look “and even if they were, it doesn’t give anybody the right to treat civilians like this, even _Oraille_.”

 

They both flinched when he said her name. They’d sooner drop poison on their tongue than those two syllables. The strict hierarchy of her operations made the Blades’ look like a preschool classroom.

 

Keith tried not to look too satisfied. He didn’t agree with nepotism on principal, but it had its perks.

 

“So you’re going to let Jarvirra in now. I trust them more than I do you two. If they’re not showing you what’s the case, it’s probably for your own good.”

 

The Alfalfi were primary contributors to the collection of rare and dangerous substances for the dispensary. He’d certainly seen things in their hauls that were better forgotten.

 

“Yeah! And I know for a fact that they can teleport so…They probably only came up to you to say ‘hi’ or something. You guys are just bullies.”

 

Again, bless Lance for trying. But informing them of the alien’s teleportation wasn’t going to alleviate their suspicion.

 

The shorter guard spoke, looking down at Lance “And you are..?”

 

Keith answered “This is Lance. Former red paladin from Earth and my partner for my ceremony.” He nudged the other man with his shoulder. He got the hint and pulled out his own ID.

 

“How charming. you make a lovely couple.”

 

“Don’t they just?” Jarvirra cooed.

 

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose “Just go in.”

 

The alfalfi lurched forth past the guards “Goodbye, friends. It is always nice to see new faces around here.”

 

The taller guard watched them dissipate into thin air, proving Lance’s claim.

 

“Sir, I appreciate that this situation is not ideal, but we have a job to do. There have been numerous theft reports within this establishment over the past movement, potentially volatile materials from personal stores, mainly. And the warden feels that if a thief is able to go by unnoticed-”

 

“Then why not an assassin?” the shorter guard interrupted “ Maybe an undercover empire traditionalist or a blood purist…If I could be so bold, there’s no shortage of covert dissenters who would love to see your head roll, sir.”

 

The taller galra was looking increasingly like he wanted to hit his partner. “The warden only has people’s safety at heart. Yours and your friends’ in particular. ”

 

Keith was getting bored with this conversation. Apparently so was Kosmo, who had taken to sniffing at the taller guard’s fluffy ear. “Where is my aunt, then? I’ll speak to her myself.”

 

“That is classified information, sir.” He said while swatting away the wolf’s muzzle.

 

“you don’t know, do you?”

 

“Nope.” Said the shorter guard, earning him a glare from his partner.

 

“So, uh…” Lance began casually “are you sure ‘the warden’ didn’t just ditch you guys here for a laugh? Because it’s kind of sounding that way…”

 

The taller guard tensed, letting out a low, ominous growl. Keith tried not to laugh, schooling his features into his best rendition of ‘stern leader’.

 

“Look, if you won’t leave can you just back off a bit? The war is over, nobody wants to be reminded of it by having armed galra posted at public entry-ways. “ Keith gestured around their huddle, where people were giving them a wide berth as they filtered into the building. “You’re freaking people out.”

 

“Your concerns are noted, _sir_.” The tall guard said simply. His tone conveyed all the ill-attitude and aggression he was very clearly unwilling to unleash on his boss’ young relative.

 

“Ok! Well, we’re going to head off now, right Keith?” Lance gripped his shoulder and urged him forward, past the guards “nice talking to you. Keep fighting the good fight, boys!”

 

Lance was shoving him in a way that made it hard to see their reaction. Did one of them snarl? He’s pretty sure one of them snarled. His own chest was twitching with the laughter he was trying to swallow.

 

One they were a safe distance, Lance eased off. They started their descent down the stairs. Kosmo milled about, getting a second serving of adoration from passers-by.

 

“Pretty daring of you to talk to them like that.”

 

“Eh, You've seen ten thousand galra soldiers, you’ve seen ‘em all”

 

The guards of Oraille’s prison were as highly trained as the Blades and twice as ruthless, but he was enjoying Lance’s look of impish pride too much to spoil it. “Fair point.”

 

“…You think they’ll ease up?”

 

“Not really. They’ll behave around me but it’s not like I can give them orders.”

 

“What about Krolia?”

 

“She’s not their boss either.”

 

Lance whistled, impressed. “You know Keith, I’m starting to realise why you laze around on earth so much, if this is what you deal with all the time.”

 

“Thank you! Finally, an earthling other than Shiro gets it.” Yet another reason to love this man, a little sympathy for a change.

 

“Aw. You want me to tell Veronica about all these purple meanies so she cuts you some slack?”

 

“Please. Your sister is merciless.”

 

“That I can sympathise with,” Lance nodded sagely “but hey, families are stressful. And I’ve had my whole life to figure mine out. You found your alien mother like, what, three years ago, time-warping included? And now she has a wizard boyfriend and has reunited with her sister who runs some kind of hellish space prison?

 

The summary wasn’t technically accurate, but damn it felt vindicating to have someone call it out for how insane it was. “Don’t forget the part where they all belong to a cult.”

 

“Of course! How silly of me.”

 

Keith laughed then because yeah, this was all so ridiculous.

 

And yet here was Lance. By his side, where he fit so well. Making him laugh and sigh and smile and all those other things idiots do when they’re in love.

 

He’d missed him after the end of the war. So much that the hurt still echoed in him now, like the gentle ache behind a healing wound. The few times he had glimpsed Lance, at meetings or over video feeds, he’d looked so small and withdrawn; just a suggestion of his former self.

 

To see him now; bursting with the life and energy he remembered from those early days of Voltron…It was beyond what he’d hoped.What he’d dared to hope for.

 

His Lance was back. Still hidden behind doubt and a little rusty from reclusion, but undeniably present.

 

His Lance.

 

The phrase is a supernova in his chest, dangerous and all-consuming. burning fiercely outward. He’s surprised Lance can’t feel the heat. It’s almost unbearable.

 

Kosmo nudged the back of Keith's head as if to tell him he was pining too loud. He wondered briefly if cosmic wolves could feel second-hand embarrassment for their love-struck owners.

 

“So,” Lance started, Midday light giving his skin a warm (why was everything about his so damn warm?) glow as he turned to look at Keith.“this park Anrei was talking about, does it have somewhere to eat?”

 

* * *

 

“Are you trying to gross me out, Keith?”

 

Keith paused chewing on a mouthful of the…something on-a-stick he’d bought to meet Lance’s distasteful stare. He began chewing again decisively and swallowed, offering him a shrug. “It tastes good.”

 

“What is it?” Lance squinted at the “Like, animal, mineral or vegetable? Help me out here.”

 

“It’s edible,” Keith said unhelpfully before going in for another bite. The substance (flesh? wood?) relented like a sturdy sponge.

 

Lance shuddered, now officially put off the remaining pile of curry-like mush he’d ordered, which was a shame, because it actually tasted nice.

 

“You’re feral, man.” He ditched the takeaway container in the rubbish bin next to their bench.

 

“Hunk liked it. I bought him a sample a while back.”

 

“Hunk likes roasted alien stomach parasites with spiced mayonnaise, doesn’t mean I’m going to be eating it any time soon.” Lance rested his elbows on back of the bench, sighing “He’s going to have a field day when he gets his hands on this planet’s freaky food.”

 

As bad as Keith’s lunch looked, there were worse things on display at the park vendor. The general culinary vibe was ‘rotten fruit found at the bottom of his schoolbag after the summer holiday.’

 

“He might be waiting a while,” Keith mumbled around his mouthful “It’s one step forward, two steps back around here. Every time I think it’s getting better some shit goes down and everything goes into lockdown again.”

 

“Like somebody stealing volatile substances? I don’t know, that sounds like a pretty legitimate reason for increased security.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. It wasn’t directed at him; more like a show of disdain for the universe in general. “Those substances are valuable. People steal them and hawk them off as ingredients for traditional medicines and stuff. It’s not a big deal.”

 

From his lax position, Lance raised his palms in surrender “Ok, if you say so.”

 

Keith continued to eat his monstrosity, and Lance looked resolutely ahead, hoping to relieve himself of the sight.

 

They were positioned at the edge of a communal area, the main attraction of which was a huge playground. Of course, it was one built with primarily galra children in mind, so it looked more like a sadistic obstacle course bred with a cat-scratch post.

 

The structure was crawling with young galra, their screams, growls and yelps filling the air. It was a strange sight. They roughhoused and bickered like children, but they could climb, leap and balance with a precision that any olympic gymnast would envy.

 

Daibazaal, according to Keith’s guidebook, was home to much bigger, nastier and hungrier creatures than the galra. They mainly relied on numbers and dense populations to deter predators, but the gladiatorial arena that was evolution also blessed them with strength, endurance and agility that made them very, very hard to kill.

 

and pretty darn good at doing flips, to boot.

 

Not to mention that whole ‘breeding with just about any alien race’ thing. Pretty useful from a survivalist perspective.

 

-‘Survival of the horniest’, as Pidge had put it.

 

She had a way with words. Not a good way, but a way.

 

Speaking of survivalist hybrids…

 

“Anrei was talking about Ezor earlier, right?” Lance looked back at Keith, who was thankfully finishing the last few bites of his meal “you gonna tell her off?”

 

“I can’t ‘tell her off’ Lance.”

 

“But you’re her leader.”

 

“Not yet I’m not,” Keith stripped the skewer of some spongy remnants with his teeth and in an unfairly coordinated move, flung it over Lance’s head and into the same bin he had used. A perfect ten out of ten.

 

Lance was uncomfortable with how attractive he found the display.

 

“It’s not like she’d listen to me anyway. She and Zethrid may be trainee Blades now, but that doesn’t make them any less difficult to work with.”

 

“They don’t respect you,” Lance stated. He thought it was a possibility. As much as he would sing Keith’s praises as a fighter, he was pretty sure he couldn’t best either of the galra hybrids in one-on-one combat. They were older, stronger and more vicious than him and there was bound to be some resentment on their part with the whole leadership arrangement.

 

“Acxa’s fine but those two…” He sighed, dropping his weight against the bench “I don’t know. The only reason they agreed to work under me was because mum basically strong-armed them into it.”

 

“Ah, payback for the whole ‘trying to kill my son on multiple occasions and causing permanent damage to his neck vertebrae from choking him over a pit of death’ thing?”

 

Keith’s hand drifted to the back of his neck, acknowledging the thrice-operated-on cracked vertebrae hidden beneath an incision scar and a generous tuft of black hair. “She calls it ‘ironic retribution’.”

 

“Damn, she’s _poetically_ brutal.”

 

“Yeah, well, I wish she’d been a little less poetic because now I’m stuck with them.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll get them in line eventually. you managed to lead Voltron, right? That’s pretty decent resume cache.”

 

“That was different. I had you back then.”

 

Keith let the statement slip casual as he pleased, watching a bubblegum-pink leaf sail in the breeze overhead.

 

It sucker-punched lance, and he did his best not to show it. It was amazing how much more raw these sorts of comments felt now that he knew he had a kind-of-sort-of desperate thing for Keith.

 

_“How can you have gotten to this point and not have realised that Keith is completely smitten with you?”_

 

How indeed. Maybe he really was an idiot.

 

He kept himself composed “I don’t really see how I could help. I guess if one of us stood on the other’s shoulders we’d be about Zethrid’s height- Get some tactical intimidation going” Lance stroked his chin between his thumb and forefinger, as if seriously considering it “Coin flip for who gets to be on top first, we’ll take in shifts after that.”

 

Keith laughed. Lance basked in the sound like a cold lizard in sunlight.

 

“I was more referring to emotional support than literal physical support, but thanks for the offer.”

 

“Emotional support,” Lance rolled the phrase around on his tongue then looked at Keith with theatric distaste “Ugh, you’ve grown up. _Gross_.”

 

Keith gave him a challenging stare “That’s a bad thing?”

 

“It is. I should have guessed it- the custom speeder, the smoking, the ditching work at the Garrison…You’re basically having a mid life crisis.” Lance clicked his tongue “washed up at twenty-one. How sad.”

 

Keith glared at him, but it was offset by the smile that twitched onto his lips.

 

-His very soft lips. He could have sworn they were usually more chapped than that. Maybe it was just a trick of the dull Dybazallian light.

 

And there was a little freckle. Right beneath his bottom lip, where it dipped before his chin. How had he never noticed that before?

 

He’d probably never stared at Keith’s lips this long before.

 

Huh.

 

…

 

Shit, what were they talking about?

 

Lance darted his eyes back to Keith’s, who now looked a little quizzical. He moved his (very nicely shaped, damn it) mouth to say something. Lance beat him to it, clearing his throat loudly.

 

“So yeah, just hang in there, Keith. You just gotta earn their respect.”

 

Keith seemed to take the delay in his stride, to lance’s relief “That's what mum keeps saying. She told me that it took her a decade to respect Kolivan enough to take orders from him.”

 

The throw-away comment caught Lance off guard. He realised that in all this promotion nonsense, he hadn’t heard the older Blade leader’s name mentioned.

 

“So where is the big guy? Shouldn’t he be in on this whole ceremony thing?”

 

Keith sucked in a breath between his teeth “it’s complicated” he said on exhale. “He and my mum haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately.”

 

“They’re fighting?” Now that would be a sight. Two hurricanes clashing.

 

“Not exactly. They still work together fine but…I think it’s more of an ideology thing,” Keith said carefully “Since the end of the war mum’s really been pushing the Blade’s in a different direction and making changes that Kolivan doesn’t always approve of.”

 

Lance felt the pieces sliding together in his head “Let me guess; the humanitarian thing was her idea and Kolivan didn’t like it.”

 

Keith nodded “He’s more set in his ways, I think. Not as optimistic. Ten thousand years of covert warfare can do that to a guy. Plus, I don’t think she ever really forgave him for having the blades beat me up when we first met.”

 

“Bit of an oopsie on his part, for sure.”

 

That was an understatement. When Keith returned from that glorified asteroid he looked like he’d been set upon by a pack of feral dogs jumped up on concentrated quintessence.

 

It was the first time he’d ever truly felt anything _desperate_ related to Keith. He remembered, with crystalline clarity, the way the brilliant red of his blood traced down his jaw and splattered against the pristine floor of the castle when he returned from the base. His limp as he refused their help to walk him to the medbay. The way he looked so utterly defeated, despite having fulfilled the mission.

 

Of course, he’d seen so much more of Keith’s blood spilt since then. Blood spilt in general. But still, that first time…

 

“‘Wish he wasn’t wearing a mask when he first saw me with my mum’s transformed blade.” Keith had conjured up a toothpick from somewhere in his pocket and was picking between his incisors because he was a resourceful goblin man like that. “I Would have loved to see the look on his face when he realised he’d nearly had his colleagues kid murdered.”

 

“Kolivan has more than one facial expression?”

 

“If you count ‘asleep’ as a facial expression I can confirm he has at least four.”

 

“So I’m guessing he didn’t put on the waterworks when he found out he wasn’t invited to your shindig?”

 

“Oh, he was invited, he just bailed as soon as Krolia told him Anrei was going to be the one gifting the luxite blade.”

 

“Oh?” Lance leaned closer, ducking his head conspiratorially.

 

Keith smirked, relenting “As my mum’s mentor, Kolivan was the most obvious choice for gifting the blade to me. The fact that she chose Anrei over him was probably cut pretty deep. He Has some…opinions on the Blades. Says saint Marmora would weep if she could see what had become of her namesake.”

 

Lance squinted, confused “…And yet he’s cosying up to a founding Blade member?”

 

“Didn’t start that way. They were tasked to work together on civil protection issues and after a while they just sort of…” Keith made a vague hand motion “yeah.”

 

“Enemies to friends to lovers. How romantic.”

 

Keith groaned “They were terrible. I swear to god, watching them in council meetings was like watching eight year olds fight over who got to ride shotgun. The council’s meeting table still has claw marks from their debate over the proposed location of the medical supply docking station.”

 

Keith paused. A smile graced his lips and his gazed touched upon Lance’s “Shiro said they reminded him of us, back when we first piloted Voltron.”

 

Lance honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. That was intentional, right? Keith wasn’t the most nimble of wordsmiths, but that parallel was NOT subtle.

 

“She was the only person who ever stood up to him. Other people were too scared to. They think he’ll hex them if they get on his bad side. Make them choke on their own blood, or drown in their bathtubs or something.”

 

Keith’s tone was ridiculing, but Lance couldn’t quite see the humour in it. He trusted Keith’s judgement and all, but the way he’d launched into a fit of coughs whenever he attempted to tell him about the ‘fitting saga’ during the rehearsal made him hesitant to put more heavy-duty witchcraft off the table.

 

“I think he was just glad to have someone around that wasn’t constantly agreeing with him. Someone to challenge him, y’know?”

 

Yeah, Lance did know actually.

 

“I guess it could be a pretty lonely life being a feared magic priest and…What did he call himself? An apothetaria…apothecarry…”

 

“Apothecarian. It’s like a medicinal chemist but with,” Keith made a dubious noise and wiggled his fingers.

 

“ah” Lance nodded sagely “quintessence”

 

“uh-huh.”

 

“Man of many talents, huh?”

 

“These people are millennia old, Lance. They’ve got a few careers to show for it. You know at one point, before the Blades were founded, my mum owned three casinos, all of which she was eventually banned from?”

 

“sounds about right.”

 

Keith continued, slinging one leg over the other “ The blades worked from the centre of the empire, but Anrei worked on its outskirts. He kept empire forces off his sector’s borders for centuries by culturing controlled plagues and coordinating his acolytes to infect the crews of encroaching empire cruisers with them.”

 

That was a joke, surely. Lance waited for the punchline. Keith’s resigned expression told him it wasn’t coming.

 

“That’s…terrifying.” The empire tended not to resort to biological warfare. They either wanted their prisoners in top fitness for labour or, if labour wasn’t needed, obliterated.

 

The thought of it- slow, sickening decay while stranded on a cruiser in the void of space- was chilling. To watch as the life slowly seeped out of them…Even for empire soldiers, it seemed so cruel a fate.

 

“that’s war.” Keith had a faraway look on his face “And If the infection took well, he’d anonymously offer to sell them the cure serum. They’d pay up, receive the cure and retreat, too terrified to attempt approaching the border again. The credits would be dispersed amongst rebel groups. A decent portion of their outposts and supplies were funded by him.”

 

Lance shook his head in disbelief. Before him, a child squealed as they were scooped into a surprise hug by their parent. “It’s all so messed up.”

 

“People do what they have to to survive. To protect. We were no different as paladins, our kills were just more palatable.” Keith smiled bitterly at him “Not everyone has the luxury of inheriting magical war machines. ”

 

It was uncomfortable to speak of, but undeniable. There was a heady surge of absolute power that came with piloting a lion. With being a part of Voltron. You were invincible.

 

It felt all-consuming. Enthralling.

 

There were times It had felt so good that it was frightening.

 

(He’d never said that in any post-war interviews. He was pretty sure none of the others had either, though he knew through Voltron’s mental connection that they’d felt it too.)

 

It was enough to keep his conscious polarised. Empire bad. Voltron good. A bright flash and it was all gone, just another obstacle out of their path.

 

It was so simple back then. So _achingly_ simple.

 

“Nowadays Anrei sticks to medicine manufacture. infectious disease is controlled pretty well by decontamination at borders, but some nasty bugs still sneak through.” Keith tapped his upper arm “Those shots you had to get on earth before coming here? He created them.”

 

At the mention, Lance felt the phantom, metallic chill of the vaccine being pushed into his veins “So he’s the real deal?”

 

“I had my doubts, but…”

 

Lance looked at him. “But?”

 

with picked at his thumbnail. It was a nervous gesture, but it drew attention to the fact that his nails were no longer course and uneven. No longer the victims of anxious biting.

 

“Did you…Do you have nightmares?”

 

Of course he did. They were as varied as they were terrifying. Endless purple-tinted always, bloodied armour wrapped around cold skin, White hair fading into cosmic dust.

 

The worst were the silent ones. The ones where he was in a sea of blackness and blinking starlight, suffocating on the enormity of the nothingness.

 

Alone.

 

“Yeah. Every so often.”

 

Keith’s mouth twitched in a small, empathetic smile “Sometimes mine got so bad I stayed awake for days just to avoid them. One day I collapsed at a Blade meeting from sheer exhaustion, and mum asked Anrei for help. He gave me a vial of clear liquid and told me to put two drops under my tongue before bed.

 

“And?” Lance trend not to sound too eager.

 

“The nightmares became quiet, like passing thoughts that just dissolve into nothing. That stuff’s a life saver. I put Shiro onto it three days after starting it. From then on I trusted his methods.”

 

Keith looked at him, smiling “I can ask him to make you some if you want. It hasn’t been green-lit by Earth’s pharmacological department yet, but I’m pretty sure Anrei’s at least a couple millennia ahead of their medicine curve anyway…”

 

“That would be great. I…” Lance laughed, light and disbelieving “Sometimes I forget how full of stuff space is. It’s like…There are answers out there to everything, huh?”

 

“There’s always a catch, though, like having to pry them from an overbearing galra priest.

 

“Aw, come on. You like him, admit it.”

 

Keith relented slightly, giving an irritated smile “He’s still an annoying jackass. I stand by that.”

 

“Well that jackass might be your future in-law, so get used to it.” Lance sang.

 

“Don’t remind me.”

 

“I bet that letter he gave you has some sort of proposal in it,” Lance preened theatrically “my dearest Krolia, how I long to be in your crushing, muscular embrace. Let us make a million purple witch babies together…”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Can we just take a peek? I’m dying Keith. I have to know.”

 

Keith shifted his satchel out of Lance’s striking range protectively “You wouldn’t even be able to read it.”

 

“You can translate!”

 

“ I have literally never wanted to know anything less than I do the contents of that letter.”

 

“You’re no fun. How can a galra hybrid with a magic space wolf and a family cult be so boring?”

 

“She’s my mother, Lance. I’m not reading her boyfriend’s fan mail,” Keith folded his arms with finality “besides, he’s probably sealed with some enchanted anti-tamper slime or some shit.”

 

“Ok, that’s a good point.” Lance conceded. “So does he have some sort of recipe book for all this nonsense. Like from his grandma or something?”

 

“It’s more of a” Keith flourished a lazy pair of jazz hands “By the grace of Syrix, I am enlightened!”

 

Lance snorted “Hallelujah.”

 

“And all the omens. Can’t forget about that.”

 

“Naturally,” Lance imitated in the bassy drawl of the priest “How about it, Kosmo?!” He called across the playground “Got any divine wisdom for us today, buddy?”

 

Kosmo was on his back, shimmying and making whiny gurgling noises as several galra kids gave him belly scratches. Hearing Lance’s voice, he angled his head towards him, mouth open in a happy gape and tongue flopping out onto the dirt.

 

“what a noble creature.”

 

Keith pushed his shoulder “Leave him alone!” His tone was adorably emphatic, but there was a stubborn glint of mirth in his eyes.

 

“Shut up Keith, I’m trying to get Kosmo to whisper unto me the arcane secrets of the stars,” Lance slapped his palms against his knees encouragingly “Come on, boy! Come on!”

 

Kosmo dog-smiled wider, ears perking up at Lance’s goading.

 

“Who’s a big fluffy devil-spawn? You are! yes you are!”

 

“ I’m warning you, Lance…”

 

Lance tipped up his chin and side-eyed Keith. Challenging.

 

“What, is he going to smite me?”

 

Keith shifted Like a stalking cat “I’ll show you ‘smite’, McLain…”

 

Lance paused. Keith’s voice had taken on a deep rumble. The mirth transformed into gleeful carnage.

 

It was alarmingly sexy.

 

 _Hot damn_ , that just wasn’t fair.

 

Before he could agonise any further, Keith had him in a headlock, which really wasn’t fair because Keith’s headlocks were A) inescapable, and B) way too good at exhibiting his biceps, which even when constricting his windpipe, were of a form beyond criticism.

 

“Say it. Say Kosmo is a glorious beast.” Keith said between gritted teeth.

 

“You’ll never brea-k me, Koga-ne” Lance wheezed, slamming the fist of his still-free hand dramatically into the back of the bench.

 

“He’s a war hero, show him the respect he deserves!”

 

Lance’s face was pressed against the thin fabric of Keith’s robe. He could feel his rapid heartbeat. Feel the heat radiating through the material and seeping into him…

 

Keith let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a yelp as Lance planted his elbow into his side, just below his rib cage.

 

The older man’s grip loosened slightly. Seeing his chance, Lance twisted around and full-body shoved Keith off the bench. He landed with a satisfying thump on the spongy park moss-turf stuff.

 

“Ha! The Blade leader in waiting can’t even beat a humble earth farmer” He made a show of spreading himself leisurely over the length of the bench, tipping his nose up piously “ Honestly, I’m disappointed.”

 

Keith was grinning. Lance may have been imagining it, but he could have sworn his pupils were slitted.

 

“You’re done.” He said simply

 

Lance vaulted over the bench, sprinting across the ground with about fifty percent genuine fear.

 

He’d barely made it five metres before he heard the rapid footfalls behind him.

 

Damn Keith’s galra genes.

 

He was slam-tackled at the waist, sending them both hurtling to the ground.

 

“Mph!” Said Lance as his face made contact with the moss.

 

A similar pained noise left him a moment later, when Keith scrambled him into some malevolent parody of a twister chokehold, the lapel of his robe constricting against his throat while his arm was pulled uncomfortably in an unnatural direction.

 

The discomfort was soon forgotten when he felt Keith’s breath against the shell of his ear.

 

“This up to your standard, farm boy?”

 

Lance could hear the smirk. visualise the devious wrinkle at the bridge of his nose.

 

Oh, he’d met his standard, alright. Exceeded it. Passed it with more flying colours than a hoisted pride flag.

 

Which was appropriate, really. He was very much enjoying the sensation of being pressed bodily against another man.

 

Heavens, what was wrong with him? There were _children_ present!

 

The lapel pulled tighter, his breathe shortened and his head buzzed and _hells bells_ …

 

-God (or syrix or Bob or whatever irresponsible force was dispelling this upon him) have mercy, it actually felt kinda _good_.

 

Today was just a day of awakenings for him, huh?

 

“Do I need to intervene here?”

 

Lance froze. From where he was squashed into the moss, his eyes latched onto a distinctly human-crafted pair of running shoes.

 

-occupied by a corny pair of Voltron-themed socks.

 

Trust Shiro to swoop in and save the day. Hurrah.

 

-Wasn’t this planet like 1.8 times the size of Earth? Why did he have to be at this exact location, at this exact time, while Lance was having this exact sexual crisis?

 

The pressure on his throat loosened, allowing him to inhale greedily. He felt Keith’s weight lift off of him, and his arm release its lock on his own.

 

“Lance was being a dick to Kosmo.” Keith’s voice was stilted by slightly laboured breathing.

 

Summoned by his master’s passing mention, Kosmo crackled into existence beside them. A couple of kids were still attached to his fur, squealing with delight, most likely at the momentary dizzying high that the teleportation imparted. They unlatched from the wolf and skittered off back to the playground, giggling.

 

Kosmo trotted up to Shiro and batted his muzzle into his flesh and blood palm, asking for adoration. The Admiral complied.

 

“Keith started it.” Lance was surprised he could form a coherent sentence under the circumstances. He figured it was only by grace of blaming Keith being so instinctually reflexive in him.

 

Keith giggled - _giggled_ \- and mussed up Lance’s hair, pushing it against the natural flow of his part.

 

“Just keeping you on your toes.”

 

Shiro eyed them both suspiciously, taking the sight of the two of them sprawled on the park lawn in moss-stained temple robes “I’m happy to see you getting along, but please tell me you’re not ditching the rehearsal.”

 

Lance sat upright, “Hey, I stood through that rehearsal fair and square, Shiro.”

 

“Yeah, Shiro. I’m shocked you would even think such a thing about me. About us,” Keith gestured between himself and Lance “We are former paladins of Voltron.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, coughing moments later due to some moss fibres he must have inhaled upon impact.

 

(Keith snorted with laughter so it was worth the discomfort.)

 

“You’re wrestling in a family park in the middle of the day covered in dirt. Pardon me for making assumptions.” He offered Keith a hand and pulled him to his feet, doing the same for Lance immediately after.

 

He did so with what Lance referred to as his ‘holiday arm’; a much sleeker, less weaponised prosthetic that actually had an elbow.

 

“So how’d it go?”

 

“Nailed it.” Lance flicked at Keith’s arm with the back of his hand Keith “right?”

 

“It was passable.”

 

“Great to hear, Lance! I knew you’d be fine. They’re so friendly over at the sect, don’t you think?”

 

Anrei’s bullshit hex clawed at his tongue “Yeah. They’re the best.”

 

Keith combed through his bangs with his fingers, which was only half as attractive as it should have been due to the bits of moss and dirt that fell out of it “What are you doing here?”

 

“Well I was actually over there,” Shiro pointed to the far side of the park. There appeared to be some sort of life painting circle going on “but I heard you two screaming,”

 

“And your big brother senses started tingling, I get it.” Lance concluded, “We’re good.”

 

“Just the usual; me kicking Lance’s ass.”

 

“Five more seconds and I would have had you.” Lance brushed off his sleeve “You’re lucky Shiro saved your sorry butt.”

 

“Uh-huh. Sure”

 

“So how are you holding up Lance?” Shiro asked

 

Lance shrugged “Well yesterday I saw Krolia in PJs and today I think I was partially inducted into a cult,”

 

_And I’ve got it scary bad for Keith and I found out today that he also has it bad for me and I’m really not sure how to process this all because honestly I can still kinda smell that funky flower pollen and I no longer trust my own head._

 

_-Also, gods and demons are real and apparently assholes so there’s that existential nugget to grapple with._

 

_But I’m still mainly concerned about the feelings thing._

 

“-So yeah, pretty good so far.”

 

Shiro smiled. It was one of those smiles that made people swoon. Not necessarily in a romantic way, more like the way people lose their faculties over miniature replicas of household items or ladybirds. Sometimes, the man just radiated pure wholesomeness.

 

-Maybe he somehow stole and assimilated Keith’s ‘wholesome’ reserves. That would explain a lot.

 

“I’m glad you’re having a good time. It’s nice to see you out and about again, and there’s no better place to start than Daibazaal. We’re watching a civilisation come back to the dead before our eyes. It’s incredible.”

 

Keith yawned loudly.

 

Shiro ignored him “Of course, you could say the same about the earth, it’s just a lot more of a spectacle here.”

 

“Everything is bigger and at least three shades more purple, so yeah I’ll agree to that.”

 

“Shiro you’re such a tourist,” Keith spoke around the last stretch of his yawn.

 

“I’m just immersing myself in an important facet of my little brother’s life.”

 

Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair and, despite the few extra inches of height he’d gained and the broadened shoulders, he looked like an errant preteen again.

 

“Ugh, just go back to your old lady painting circle.”

 

It hardly surprised Lance that it was, on closer inspection, a gathering of old galra ladies attending the easels. Old human ladies shared the same adoration for the man. Maybe that was just a universal characteristic of the age demographic.

 

One of them waved at Shiro across the distance. He waved back.

 

“Your people are calling you,” Keith said airily.

 

Shiro dropped his hand to his side “Remember Keith, no eating from midnight.” He pointed at Lance “you can eat as much as you want. preferably in front of him.”

 

“Fuck off, old man.” Said Keith endearingly, slapping away the metal hand.

 

“Uh, _uh_ ,” Shiro pointed behind them, where kids ran amuck “ten metre swear rule, Blade leader. You’re a role model now.”

 

“Still two days. I’ll swear in front of children as much as I want.”

 

“Keith!” Lance shoved Keith with his shoulder “Don’t worry Shiro, I’ll keep him from corrupting these sweet, innocent purple ears.”

 

He gazed back at the playground. A dozen children were swinging around on the dangerously high monkey bars, howling like a bunch of purple chimps on cocaine.

 

Shiro beamed at him “It’s good that you’re here Lance. You were always the best at keeping him in line. He’s train wreck without you. See you two at the ceremony!”

 

And before Keith could hurl any retaliation, Shiro had given Kosmo’s ruff one last ruffle and began making his way back to his painting circle

 

“You know, sibling evil is the worst kind of evil because to everyone else it just looks like they’re being nice,” Lance laid a sympathetic hand on Keith’s shoulder “ I feel your pain, Keith.”

 

“Why can’t he just hurt me physically like my enemies?”

 

“I know buddy, I know.”

 

Keith sighed and pulled a familiar playing card-sized box from his pocket.

 

“Want to go back to my place and smoke galra weed?”

 

Truly, a man after his own heart.

 

 

______________________________________________

 

 

“For mum. It’s from Anrei.”

 

Mara took the envelope out of Keith’s hand like she was retrieving a washcloth from the bottom of a sink full of filthy dish water.

 

“I will deliver the message to her as soon as she returns,” the paper dangled unceremoniously by her side “no doubt his lordship has sent a message of the utmost importance, as usual.”

 

It wasn’t always easy to tell when galra were being sarcastic, but Lance was fairly certain that the house servant’s statement lacked sincerity.

 

“Thanks, we’re just heading back to my place now, so-”

 

“One moment; I have something for you.”

 

She turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall and around a doorway. Her voice echoed as she disappeared from view.

 

“It arrived just a few vargas ago. I the lady of the house’ absence, I took the liberty of validating the delivery.”

 

A few seconds later she returned, striding up to Keith and proffering a hefty rectangular object.

 

“A signed first edition, five quintants before its official launch, I believe”

 

Lance peeked at it from his spot halfway behind Keith.

 

It was a book. I very long book with a handsome looking hardcover and titled with elegant galran script. The cover depicted two galra locked in a very intimate embrace, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes…

 

It looked a lot like one of his mother’s harlequin novels.

 

Oh, there was _no way_ …

 

With all the lethal speed of his station, he grabbed the item from Mara’s hands and pressed it face-down against his chest.

 

“Thank you Mara! that’s great. Really appreciate it.”

 

“Dude, is that..?”

 

“ A gift from the celebrated romantic novelist Ertua of Ghail. She extends her appreciation and best wishes to you and your mother.”

 

Keith swatted Lance backwards with his free hand, prompting him away from the door “Ok, let’s go-”

 

“Keith is a big fan of her work. This is her latest piece in a series of-”

 

“ByetellmumIsaidthanks!” Keith blurted, all but dragging Lance from the doorstep “Kosmo!”

 

The wolf yipped and bounded to Keith’s side. Apparently, his tone was enough to convey that he wanted to leave immediately because Kosmo’s fur was already raised and sparking with energy.

 

“Hand on fur, Lance,” He obeyed, kept lay his own hand on the wolf’s flank “Home, boy.”

 

The last thing Lance saw before the white flash was the red of Keith’s cheeks and the possessive grasp he still maintained on his new book.

 

It was adorable.

 

* * *

 

Soft, spiced smoke created a halo around the roof light. The pink of the fumes made the light disperse prettily. Their own indoor sunset after dark.

 

A low, soothing sound emanated from Keith’s speakers. Some kind of orchestral suite recording from a performance he’d attending with Krolia a few months ago, he’d said. The alien, yet alluring string-instrument humming had almost as strong a calming effect as the smoke he was inhaling.

 

Of course, Keith, from where he was lazing against a snoozing Kosmo’s belly on his living room floor, was doing his best to break the peace.

 

Lance’s needling may have had something to do with that

 

"she’s an _artist_ , Lance. I started reading her work to improve my galran literacy and… You wouldn’t understand because you don’t read old galra, but she just has this,” He made a frantic gesture with his hands “ _way_ with language…”

 

Lance beamed. He didn’t even have to try right now. Keith was winding himself up like a self-loathing Jack-in-the-Box.

 

“Uh-huh. You sound like preteen me trying to convince myself I only watched the men’s national Cuban swim team competitions to appreciate the _techniques_.” He fixed Keith with a patronising stare, putting a hand over his heart tenderly “There’s nothing wrong with accepting who you are. Live your truth.”

 

(Ok, so maybe he’d been grappling with the ‘bi’ thing a fair way into his teens. And kinda into space as well. And kiiinda when it flared up around a certain dark haired temptation…”

 

(…)

 

(Yup. He’d had a thing for Keith for ages, hadn’t he?”)

 

Keith looked at him owlishly, eyes ever so slightly watery from the smoke.

 

It just then occurred to lance that he may not have actually, _technically_ ever told Keith he was bisexual.

 

He just kinda breezed by assuming everyone knew. His family did. Hunk too, of course. Both way before he himself realised, probably. Pidge was smart enough to figure it out. Shiro probably knew…

 

Oh God, was there a possibility Keith had thought him straight this whole time?

 

ugh.

 

He felt weirdly exposed now. Not in a bad way, just…Exposed.

 

Lance cleared his throat “In any case man, it’s cool.”

 

Keith glowered at the floor.

 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone about your secret hobby reading.”

 

A disbelieving huff.

 

“Hey,” Lance picked up a cushion and threw it at Keith. It hit him in his dumb, pretty, self-pitying head “look at me, dingus.”

 

Keith let out an irritated growl “What?!”

 

“I mean it. It’s our secret,” Lance held up a hand placatingly. Diplomatically, “and just to prove it, I’ll tell you a secret. I _love_ romcoms. The cheesier the better."

 

“I know. Veronica told me.”

 

Lance threw up his hands despairingly, flopping back against the couch. It earned a chuckle from Keith.

 

“But it’s different for you. You’re…You know. “

 

“Brilliant? Amazing? Godly?” Lance answered, more out of reflex than anything else.

 

“You’re Lance. You’re allowed to like that sort of stuff.”

 

Lance sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. Self-doubt had never looked good on Keith, but it really didn’t suit him now. Not when they’d won a war. Not when he was sitting, two nights before being promoted to a warrior leader, in a very nice house filled with accolades and memories attesting to his wealth of accomplishments.

 

Lance leant forward with purpose, powering through the subtle dizziness of the muscle relaxing substances pulsing merrily in his blood.

 

“You’re Keith,” he stabbed the air with the butt of his cigarette, its glowing terminal set like a sniper barrel targeting the other man “and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

 

With a satisfied nod and one last drag from the token, he extinguished it on the ashtray Keith had set on the ground beside the couch.

 

“You said ‘fuck’” Keith exhaled. It was almost adoring.

 

“Only for you, Keith.”

 

They spent the next few hours drifting through insubstantial talk between periods of comfortable silence. Keith would slouch down into Kosmo’s menthol-scented fur and close his eyes for a while. Lance would stare meditatively at the roof, counting the minuscule peaks of the granite-ish texture.

 

It was Keith who called it a night first, saying he had to leave early for his purification. He rattled off a few more pointers for working the communicators ( _“I can work a cross calibrated frequency scrambler Keith. I’m not stupid.”_ ), let Kosmo out to attend his nightly mysteries, and then retired to his room.

 

A few minutes later, Lance retired to his.

 

In light of the evening’s events, He’d been inspired to do some reading of his own.

 

______________________________________________

 

 

_…Daibazaal’s edible plant life contains a high percentage of bioavailable heavy mineral deposits. While safe to eat in relation to the average daily caloric intake of an adult galra ( approx. 19,000 kilojoules), These deposits bioaccumulate significantly through the food chain._

_As a result, Apex predators/obligate carnivores such as the enjaura and the stripe-tusked reweill, while highly successful in their ecological niches, tend to have a relatively short natural lifespan (100-300 years) before succumbing to organ failure due to high blood toxicity (for more information and food safety tips, consult the tourism section, chapter 89b- ‘Heavy metal poisoning and you’)._

_It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that the majority of lifeforms on Daibazaal are largely, if not entirely, herbivorous. Including, contrary to popular belief purveyed by the empiric era propaganda, galra themselves…_

 

 

The new book smell was still pleasant, chasing the last of the musty spiced smoke from his head.

 

Lance leafed through the ‘galra biology and sociology’ section of the tome Keith gifted him, but he’d been doing so for ten minutes now, and he’d not found anything remotely related to what he was looking for.

 

 

 _…Viral strains found in the soil, which interact with galra-specific genetic characteristics. This ‘infection’ triggers a dramatic, yet harmless, reaction in specialised pigmentation cells, causing them to form a bias to red-blue expressions. As a result, galra, almost universally, display some variation of purple. In rare cases polarised expressions can occur, producing specimens of solid blue or solid red colouration._  
_Hereditary expressions of this pathogen-host symbiotic phenomenon are not fully understood. Even less so in the case hybridisation. Gene dominance may…_

 

Nope. He fanned through another half-inch of pages

 

 

 _….by this model of intravenous injection, it could be predicted that merely ingesting a cup of coffee with four shots of espresso is potentially enough to trigger immediate cardiac arrest in a healthy adult galra._  
_Hybrid galra may have a higher tolerance, but should remain cautious…_

 

 

Huh. Good to know, but nope.

 

 

 _…Genetic plasticity beyond that of any other known sexually reproducing, multicellular organism (with the obvious exclusion of intinnions and such other parasitic, phasing virictins)._  
_Mating preferences are entirely dependant upon the individual, though certain…_

 

 

Ah, that sounded a little more like it. He flicked forward a dozen pages.

 

 

_…Complex hormonal interaction stimulated by perceived relationship compatibility. This causes a cascade of physiological reactions to occur, in turn…_

 

Probably too far, but…

 

Holy shit those illustrations.

 

… _Did Keith have one of those_?

 

He shook his head, quickly flicking back until he saw a chapter heading he could work with.

 

 

_Courtship and Romance: A cross-cultural perspective_

 

 

Bingo.

 

Lance fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the notepad feature.

 

He hadn’t studied since the garrison.

 

This ought to be a fun evening.

 

_______________________________________________

 

Jarvirra passed their hand over the wilting flowers of a particularly nice offering wreathe, humming as the amber petals filled and flexed with the life they poured into them. The Alfalfi shifted the delicate structure so it sat straight and proud at the foot of Syrix’s idol, alongside the other tributes.

 

They were the last on duty, their associates having left after completing the late order garment of little Keith’s earthling sweetheart.

 

It would have been nice if the tailors had cleaned up more thoughtfully after themselves, but they were mostly galra and, alas, prone to grubbiness.

 

A small braided leaf circlet lay crumpled beneath a prayer slip. Jarvirra eased it out and set about re-shaping it.

 

So let them be grubby, they thought. At least the purple ones, blessed be their fortunes, now had their very own planet to be so upon.

 

A wooden creak split the silence. Their head twitched over their shoulder. At the end of the hall the sects door was ever so slightly ajar.

 

Someone had entered. Very quietly.

 

Jarvirra set the circlet down.

 

They stood, pacing toward the centre of the hall “Good evening, friend. What can I help you with?”

 

No response came. Perhaps it was a visitor filled with doubt or reproach. A guilty, troubled mind. Or and absentee of the cult, looking to rekindle their connection to the great and fortunate lord.

 

Perhaps someone had gotten lost looking for the bathroom.

 

“You needn’t be shy. This sect welcomes all who enter.” They opened their arms in a gesture of deference “if it is my face you fear, I will gladly don my hood for your comfort.”

 

The stretch of the hall’s floor remained empty. The only sound was the crackle of the electric blue embers.

 

Jarvirra drew in a breathe, letting the air coat their tongue.

 

It tasted bitter. Trepidation. Ambition.

 

Rage.

 

They loosed their claws. Their closest blade was at their waist; a time-consuming and conspicuous manoeuvre.

 

“I beg you to reconsider your intentions, my friend. I am not fond of violence.” Jarvirra reached for the quintessence surrounding them. The fire shivered in response, ready to obey their command.

 

Fabric brushed against stone. Metal whistled through air.

 

Bitter, bitter, _bitter_.

 

The fire consumed itself, plunging the space in darkness.

 

Cloth tore, then flesh.

 

blood painted a delicate arc on the stone floor, lost until the light returned.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I bet nobody saw PLOT coming. it’s all fun and games until knives happen
> 
>    
> Hope you liked it! Thank you so much for reading! Again, sorry for the wait! 
> 
>  
> 
> As a show of good faith, I have set the (probably) final chapter count. Two more to go! I have them outlined and everything.
> 
>    
> In the meantime, SOME RECS!
> 
>  
> 
> I have twice now read Astrolatte’s post s8 klance/Lotura fic, ‘In this Reality’. ’Tis very good and highly recommend it.
> 
>  
> 
> Also if you’re a klance fan (which I assume you are if you are here?) I recommend downloading the FREE (!) Klance post s8 zine ‘The stars align’, which I am currently working my way through. It is over 300 pages of lance fic/fanart, people. It’s good stuff.
> 
>  
> 
> I may have lost control of my life, but


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